


wait for me to come home

by AgentMayson



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence- s04e19, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, suicide mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-10-24 19:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 87,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10748766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMayson/pseuds/AgentMayson
Summary: They were supposed to wake up and remember who they really were. They didn’t.Set post-Framework.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ed Sheeran's "Photograph".

She was home, but it didn’t feel like home.

Skye (though, she’s ‘Daisy Johnson’ here) had told her that this base was where the Melinda May of this world lived. It was where the resistance was based in her home world (‘the Framework’ as they called it), called the Playground, for reasons no one has explained. They told her that when Hydra rose up in this world, this was where they hid too. This world’s Melinda May had stayed with S.H.I.E.L.D., and fought Hydra, and brought S.H.I.E.L.D. back to power. But the Melinda May that she was now, the one that came back, couldn't even begin to imagine doing that. 

Since waking up in the other world (the _real_ world, because her whole life was just some coding on a computer), everything had been a blur. The fighting part had been straightforward enough, even though this world seemed to have robot people who wanted her dead (“androids”, a ‘Jemma Simmons’ informs her, as if that matters somehow). They told her that this world’s Melinda May had been lied to about the androids. This world’s Melinda May was supposed to be cross about it, to want to ‘beat their asses’ for lying and creating this whole mess. The Melinda May who came back didn’t feel anything towards them at all.

 

~*~

 

They returned to the S.H.I.E.L.D. base and assessed the damage done in their absence. One of the androids had blown up their entrance, but everyone was quick to dismiss it.

“It was a very… _noble_ thing to do,” Jemma Simmons told her. The nobility in explosions was lost on May, but she nodded numbly. There was work to be done, but none that May could do: she was both mentally and physically drained, and completely lost in this foreign world. Though they claimed to be a close-knit team, only the schoolteacher knew where her room was. He was eager to show her the way, proud of himself for knowing, and looked down at her with a softness in his eyes that must have meant something to the other Melinda May. It meant nothing to her.

“Being home helps,” he told her cheerfully, “It’s like waking up opened a floodgate. It’s all coming back to me now. You’ll see.”

“Sure,” she said hesitantly, because she wasn’t sure what he expected from her. He unlocked her door by scanning some card (why did  _his_ card get into _her_ room?), and followed her in instinctively. The impersonal nature of the room made Melinda’s heart ache. The furniture looked like something out of a military barrack, which she supposed makes sense, but even the bedspread had a S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on it. The walls had no photos, or art, or even paint, and there wasn’t a single memento in the room- it was lifeless.

“Is this the right room?” she asked, hoping he’d misremembered. His memories were still so new; this had to be a mistake.

“No, this is right,” he assured her. She just shook her head. How could she have lived here for years, and never even chosen her own sheets? She opened the wardrobe, to find he might actually be right. Her vests were there, hanging up neatly next to a selection of leather jackets and a glittering silver dress. She pulled the dress out, and raised an eyebrow at Phillip.

“From undercover,” he supplied. She nodded, and put it back. That, at least, made sense. She wandered around the room, glancing in drawers for something personal, something to show that the Melinda May of this world and the Melinda May who came back were the same. All she found was that they both wore the same size clothes. Reluctantly, she sat down on her bed, with Phillip joining her instantly, still looking at her expectantly. On her bedside table, she had nothing, not even a water bottle or a book. There wasn’t even _dust_.

She opened the top drawer, and her heart skipped a beat: there was a photo frame, face down. She snatched it up instantly, desperate to feel some connection to her other self, and turned it over. There were two pictures, both of the Other May and a handsome, dark-skinned man, taken some time apart. He was beaming at the camera in both photographs, with his arm around her waist, wearing obnoxious Hawaiian shirts and board shorts. The younger Other May was beaming too, in a tiny red bikini, hanging off him with her arms around his neck and her feet kicked up in the air. In the second picture, she was standing beside him, in a floral sundress, with a hand resting on his chest. She was looking up at him, with a shy smile on her lips and adoration in her eyes, so much in love. May stared at the pictures, desperate to feel something for these moments, for this man she was clearly so close to, but felt nothing. She’d known this man for at least two decades, judging by her age. They’d been on vacation together at least twice. She looks like she loved him. And yet, there was nothing.

“Andrew,” Phillip offered.

May frowned, looking up at him, “What?”

“Dr Andrew Garner,” he repeated, pointing at the picture. May wanted to hate him for knowing more about her life than she did, but apparently being unable to hate him was all that she’d kept from the Other May.

“Dr Andrew Garner,” she repeated, “We were close.”

“You were!” Phillip agreed delightedly, as though she’d cleverly uncovered some huge secret rather than just pointed out the obvious, “You remember Andrew?”

She just shook her head, setting the frame up on the bedside table, “Who was he, to me?”

“Your husband,” Phillip said, looking down at his hands. May blinked at him, then looked back at the picture. Dr Andrew Garner, her husband.

“My husband?” she repeated, still feeling nothing, “I’m married here? Where is he?”

“You… you were,” Phillip finally said, and May’s heart sank back to the pit of her stomach, “The first picture, that’s your honeymoon. You eloped to Maui. You divorced not long after Bahrain, but got back together a few years ago, and went back to Maui again. He died… uh, on a mission, I suppose. Last year.”

May nodded slowly, looking at the pictures again. This Other May, she had once had a husband. She had eloped. She must have been in love. Her parents must have been _furious_. And then, they’d divorced- why? Cambridge hadn’t happened here, or so she’d been told, so he would have had no reason to hate her like everyone else had in her world. What had happened to them that was serious enough to get a divorce over, but not enough to stop her from dating him again? The Other May had ended up recreating her honeymoon with her ex-husband. Why would anyone do that?

“I should let you get some rest,” Phillip said finally, evidently realising that she wasn’t going to remember anything tonight, “I’m next door if you need me, alright? We share a bathroom, so you can get in through there anytime, for anything.”

She stared down at her hands, frowning. So that was how he knew where her room was. Phillip, seemingly realising she wasn’t going to reply, stood up awkward and headed towards the bathroom to leave.

“Wait,” May said suddenly, surprising even herself. Phillip turned around instantly, face lighting up.

May hesitated, “are we not allowed to decorate?”

He frowned, “what?”

May shook her head, because it was so stupid and small, but it made her feel awful, “The room. It’s very… are all the rooms like this?”

He paused, biting his lower lip, which was enough to tell her that this was the only one.

“They were pre-furnished before we got here. We let everyone do pretty much whatever they wanted after that,” he said slowly, “You could have decorated, I suppose. I never asked why you didn’t. I think you just never got around it?”

“Was she unhappy?” May asked, “The Melinda May who lived here. Did she not want to be here?”

Phillip looked surprised, then upset, then folded his arms and looked at the floor for a moment.

“I thought she was happy,” he said finally, “I’ll let you get some rest.”

She let him leave this time. She curled up on the unfamiliar bed, in a world that wasn’t hers, and reminded herself through her tears that this world was supposed to be better.

 

~*~

 

She woke without knowing she’d even fallen asleep, feeling groggy and disoriented.

It took a few moments before she realised where she was, and her heart sank back down to the pit of her stomach. She was all alone, in another dimension, sleeping in the Other May’s bed. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, unnerved by the silence of the base. She’d grown up in the quiet of rural Virginia, waking to the chirping of birds and the ever-present chatter of her siblings. After she had left home, she had moved into an apartment in the middle of the city, waking to the sun streaming through the window and the soft hum of the sleepless city. She wondered idly if that had happened to this world’s Melinda May. Where had the point of divergence been between the two of them?

She got out of bed, for lack of anything better to do. There was no clock, because of course there wasn’t. The Other May had no need for worldly possessions, it seemed. Maybe she was more spiritual here? May didn’t feel right wearing a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform, not yet, so she dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans instead. What did the Other May wear around here? Was she always in uniform, or did she only suit up in the field? Did she wear her uniform when she wasn’t working, when she was on base but she was just watching TV with her friends? Did she even have friends here? She felt a pang of longing for Sitwell and Garrett, and wondered what became of them in this world. Did they exist here? Were they still friends?

She considered going to ask Phillip where the kitchen was, but decided against it. She didn’t need him staring at her the way he did. She found that there was a large gym next door to the Other May’s room, though it was empty of all personnel. The Other May must have trained there. It made sense that she’d pick a room next to the gym. In her world (‘the Framework’, which wasn’t a real world at all), her apartment was above a gym. She’d trained there for decades, pounding sandbags until her fists bled, and it probably didn’t even exist in this reality.

“Agent May!”

She spun around, alarmed, only to see that it was just the British girl from earlier. She had been in the other world with them, but kept all her memories, both inside and out. Jemma Simmons, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., an alleged friend, but one who wasn’t on a first-name basis with her apparently.

“You’re finally awake! I was just coming to check on you,” Agent Simmons told her brightly, though her cheerfulness didn’t meet her eyes. She was worried about something, and terrible at hiding it.

“Ah,” May said, for lack of anything better to say, “Well, here I am.”

“You are looking better,” Agent Simmons examined her thoughtfully, “And you must have slept well then, to be up so late now.”

“What time is it?” May asked. She still hadn’t seen any clocks or windows, but she wasn’t sure how far underground they were. Perhaps there weren’t any windows down here.

Agent Simmons glanced at her watch, “Half past 9. You’re normally up around 5.”

May nodded. That, at least, was something she had in common with the Other May.

“She has no clock,” May said, “or window. How does she know what time to get up?”

“She? You mean _you_? This world’s version of you?” Agent Simmons asked, and then shrugged, “I don’t know. You just do.”

“What does she do?” May tried, “If she were here, what would she be doing?”

Agent Simmons considered that for a moment, “I don’t know actually. I don’t know a lot of what you do day to day. You normally don’t train the strike team until after lunch. Maybe paperwork?”

May frowned, “Does she do a lot of paperwork?”

“Not so much anymore,” Agent Simmons said, “You used to be in administration, but I don’t know what you did there either.”

May raised an eyebrow and Agent Simmons shrugged apologetically. Administration? She hated paperwork. How had she ended up there?

May sighed, “Thank you anyway, Agent Simmons.”

She looked surprised by that for some reason, “What did you call me?”

“Agent Simmons. Is that not you?” May frowned, “I’m normally quite good with names.”

Agent Simmons shook her head with a laugh, “What I mean is, you don’t call me Agent.”

“Aren’t you an agent?” May asked.

“Well, I am, but we don’t call each other that here,” Agent Simmons explained.

“You called me Agent May,” she pointed out, “What do I call you?”

“Just Simmons,” she replied, “I’m sorry to confuse you, I know you don’t remember much of the real world. I only call you Agent out of habit, from back when you were my superior officer, but we don’t really have ranks around here anymore. There’s a spectrum of security, but you hate it and just tend to ignore it for the most part.”

May blinked at her, then shook her head. No ranks? What kind of organisation was this?

“Alright. _Simmons_ ,” she said carefully, “So, we just do surnames here?”

“Yes, just surnames,” Simmons agreed, “You might use Agent for someone you don’t know very well, I suppose.”

May almost smiled at that, “Well, I don’t know anyone, at all. You and the Melinda May of this world, you were friendly?”

“Oh yes,” Simmons agreed quickly, “We’ve worked together since the Bus. Um, that’s a plane, we were assigned to a team on. You were the pilot, obviously.”

“And you’re a…” May trailed off, because she’s not sure what this girl could possibly be doing working here, “not a pilot, then?”

Simmons smiled, “Biochem. I’m a scientist. I could take you down to the lab with me, if you’d like.”

May had never had the right kind of head for science, but perhaps the Other May did.

“Sure,” she agreed slowly, “Do you think that will help with my memories?”

“I’m not sure,” Simmons said, “But I can’t imagine it’ll hurt. Come on.”

 

~*~

 

The lab didn’t help.

May found that what been sleeping quarters for inhuman refugees in the Framework was a laboratory in this world, filled with equipment she didn’t understand and people she didn’t know. Once they had arrived, Simmons (too casually to be actually casual) announced that, as long as they _happened_ to have May there, they ought to run a few tests. That was how May found herself lying on one of the hospital beds with half a dozen monitors stuck to her, feeling like she had just stumbled into a very obvious trap. At least this probably meant that the Other May didn’t like hospitals either.

She shifted uncomfortably on the bed, “Am I well?”

“Remarkably so,” Simmons assured her, “Considering how long you were AIDA’s prisoner for, I’m surprised you survived at all. The muscle atrophy is a little concerning, but I imagine you’ll bounce back. You always do.”

May frowned at the ceiling thoughtfully, “What happened to her?”

Simmons’ smile dimmed a little, “Excuse me?”

“Your world's May was AIDA’s prisoner?” May prompted her, “Your Madame Hydra? What happened?”

Simmons sighed and sat down at the end of the bed, hugging her tablet to her chest, “AIDA is not so much a ‘who’ as a ‘what’, I’m afraid. She was an android built by Radcliffe and Fitz. I suppose the simplest way to put it is that our team had located a highly advanced, incredibly dangerous book, the Darkhold, and Radcliffe wanted the knowledge for himself. So, he built a copy of you, programmed it with your memories and personality, and then when you went to pick up AIDA for a mission she took you prisoner, for almost a month.”

May slouched back against the pillows, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Imprisoned and cloned by a robot over a book. She tried to picture herself like that, but couldn’t get past the ridiculousness of collecting a robot for a mission. Was she scared? She must have been terrified. Simmons was still watching her worriedly, waiting for a response. How could anyone even _begin_ to respond to something like that?

“The copy of her that AIDA built?” May said finally, then shook her head, “How is it even _possible_ to build a copy of someone?”

Simmons bit her lower lip, considering her words carefully, “Well, it’s highly advanced science, from the Darkhold. It wasn’t a perfect copy of you; it was an android with your brain.”

“She had my _brain_?” May interrupted, eyes widening, “They took my _brain_?”

“A _copy_ of your brain,” Simmons quickly corrected her, “You… well, there’s no normal way to put this: you died at Radcliffe’s house. Only for a few, terrifying minutes, but… what matters is that we were scanning your brain, to try and _cure_ you. Radcliffe and AIDA used those scans to create a copy of your brain, with all your memories, your personality, your instincts, and then when you came to collect AIDA, they sent that _thing_ back to us so we wouldn’t know you were gone.”

May stared at her for a moment, trying to process that. She had _died._ This Simmons, with Radcliffe and AIDA, had been trying to save her, trying to find a cure for something, but she’d _died._ May tried to imagine what it would have been like, but couldn't. She’d pictured a million different ways that she might die, each more violent and terrible than the last, but she’d never pictured anything like this: being incurably sick, while these people were trying to save her. People who would later use that against her, take a piece of her from when she was most vulnerable and use it to conceal her kidnapping.

“She must have been so scared,” May said softly. Simmons seemed surprised by that, which didn't make any sense to May. After all, who _wouldn’t_ have been scared?

“Scared?” Simmons echoed blankly.

“Going back to where she died. Getting kidnapped by a robot,” May explained, “What happened to whoever was with her?”

Simmons blinked at her, “Who was with her?”

“When she went back to Radcliffe’s house to get AIDA for the mission,” May recounted, “who was with her?”

“Well, no-one,” Simmons said, “You were just going to pick up AIDA, after all. We didn’t know what she was capable of, not then. You were _supposed_ to be taking it easy. We thought… we thought they were our friends.”

The tablet Simmons was clinging to started to beep before she could say anything else. Simmons hopped up, offering May a tight-lipped smile, and turned her attention back to whatever results she’d received. She scanned the first few lines, eyes narrowing and lower lip trembling at whatever she had found. Simmons clearly never learnt to conceal her emotions.

“Bad news?” May asked.

“Oh,” Simmons sighed in frustration, shaking her head, “it’s just Fitz. He doesn’t remember anything either, I’m afraid. He’s… he’s not taking being home very well.”

May nodded slowly. The Doctor had been hysterical after waking up, and had needed to be shot by a tearful Agent Simmons with some blue chemical bullet. Simmons had claimed he would make a full recovery, that the bullet wasn’t really a bullet, that he wasn’t really a terrible Hydra scientist... or at least he wasn’t one here. May still hadn’t decided if she believed that yet.

“The doctor is here, then?” May asked.

Simmons nodded, “He’s… General Talbot felt it best that we keep him in _Vault D_ , for the time being. Though how locking him up is going to help him remember, I have no idea. I should go check up on him. He’ll have to remember something. Do you have any memories yet?”

Simmons looked so hopeful, so desperate, that it pained May to be the one who had to let her down. That stirred something in the back of May’s mind, a feeling of protectiveness, of tenderness towards this stranger.

“I don’t… I don’t have any memories,” May said carefully, “just… feelings.”

“Feelings?” Simmons asked, “feelings like what?”

“Feelings like… like, I don’t want you to be unhappy,” May offered lamely, “I care about you. I just don’t remember why.”

Simmons half-smiled at that, and leant over to kiss May’s temple, “Well, as Fitz would say, we’re a team and a family. You’ll be alright. All of you will be. I’ll make sure of it.”

May nodded, though she’d known the Doctor for years and never heard him saying anything _remotely_ like that.

Simmons smiled at her thoughtfully, and turned her attention back to the tablet, “And at the very least, you’re all physically recovering well. We should be thankful for that.”

Simmons took a few moments to disconnect May from all the monitors, and then helped her off the bed. May ran her fingers through her hair, eyeing the tablet thoughtfully.

“Do I have one of those?” she asked.

“Um, I don’t know. Probably? You mostly just use the computer in Vault B. Oh! But speaking of which, Agent Koenig dropped off your lanyard,” Simmons said, picking it up off one of the counters, “We’re not sure what happened to your last key card. Probably destroyed when your clone was destroyed.”

May nodded, taking the lanyard and hanging it around her neck. The little card was similar to the one Coulson had, though hers was bright red.

“This will get me into my room?” May asked, “I couldn’t see any way to lock or unlock the door.”

“Oh yes. Most of the doors here will automatically lock, but you should be able to get through most of them with your key card,” Simmons assured her, “and you’ll need it to log into the computers.”

“The computers… right. Where’s Vault B?” May asked.

“I can take you there on my way to see Fitz,” Simmons offered, “I’ll stop by the kitchen and make him some tea. He’s always so grumpy in the morning without it.”

“You know where the kitchen is?” May asked.

“You don’t?” Simmons sounded surprised, then shook her head, “No, I can’t imagine you would remember that. I’ll show you that too. Come on.”

 

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May goes looking for answers about her other life. What she finds only makes her more confused than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This chapter contains mentions of suicide.*

With instructions from Simmons to “try to take it easy, and not overthink things too much”, May was dropped off in Vault B with a cup of tea and a sandwich. She wandered through the vault, hoping for something to stand out as personal, something to remind her of who she had been. It was more of a storage room than an office, filled with filing cabinets and boxes upon boxes of unfiled paperwork. She poked around until she found the filing cabinet for MAV-MEB, and opened it, flicking through for anything under MAY. 

There it was, her personnel file. She curled up in one of the chairs, flicking open the folder. And there she was, staring out of a photograph, the Other Melinda May. There was a list of identical biographical information: same name, same birthday, same birthplace, same race, same gender… but different heights: apparently, this May was 2 inches taller? How was that possible?

Her last known address was for an apartment in Alexandria, Virginia, and the previous one for a street address in Willowdale, Virginia. So, she’d stayed in Virginia then, close to home. Was she close to her family? Did she visit them often, before she had moved to the Playground? They must have been so scared for her when she went into hiding with S.H.I.E.L.D., not knowing if she would ever come home again. Were her parents still alive here? If Hydra had been defeated in this world, perhaps they’d survived. Would she get to see them again?

The Other May went on her first mission with Phillip Coulson, not John Garrett. It was still the same retrieval operation in Sausalito, the same suicide mission that they somehow managed to survive. Garrett had never been the same after that, devastated that they were seen as disposable just because they were Level 1, and vowed revenge. They’d taken care of each other after that, been devoted to each other for _decades,_ knowing perfectly well that S.H.I.E.LD. wouldn’t have their backs. When Hydra emerged from the shadows after Cambridge, Garrett took care of her: he'd protected her from Hydra's persecution and made her his second in command. There were some experiences that you couldn’t live through together without coming out permanently attached to each other, and the Sausalito op was one of them. So, if the Other May had gone through all that with Phillip Coulson, did that mean he was her John Garrett in this world? What had been different about the two men, that Sausalito had made one into a high-level Hydra double agent, and the other into the secret director of S.H.I.E.L.D.?

The Other May’s missions after that were almost exclusively with Agent P.J. Coulson, which she supposed explained why they were so close now. They’d spent the early years of their career side by side: they were lucky to still have each other. Two years into their careers, they were assigned to their first ever team together: “STRIKE TEAM DELTA: THE NEST” under Commander N.J. Fury. Evidently, in this world Agent Fury hadn’t died so soon. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Jasper Sitwell had been on the team too: she ran her finger across his name fondly. Had they still been friends here?

A routine psych assessment told her that she had married Dr. Andrew Garner, a S.H.I.E.L.D. psychologist, on May 16th, 1998. The report pointedly noted that he’d joined S.H.I.E.L.D. to be with her and they’d married after only knowing each other a few months, demonstrating that they were reckless and impulsive. May smiled at that. Perhaps it was a flaw in her psych profile, but it was a sweet story in the otherwise dry report. May tried to imagine how it must have been for her: to be young and wild and so madly in love, running away to a beautiful tropical island to elope with a man who’d joined S.H.I.E.L.D. to be with her. Her heart ached that she had no memories of this man, and it was too late to make any new ones. She’d never even met him, and yet he was already lost to her.

Then, the Bahrain mission report. May froze as soon as she saw the date, then remembered that this was a different world. She had made all the right choices here, and Cambridge had never happened. Garrett was replaced by Coulson again, and other names she didn’t recognise made up the rest of the team. It detailed an identical mission to the one she’d gone on in her world: they went to look for Eva Belyakov, her team was taken captive, she went in to save them. And she did, it seemed, by accident: the report noted her impaling Eva, but not taking out the girl. Instead, the inhuman monster had been “killed in the crossfire”, with no mention of her having powers at all. The report noted that May was “shaken” about the girl’s death, that she was found cradling her corpse, but not that she’d known what the monster could do. Perhaps this May hadn’t known. Perhaps she’d never realised what the girl was capable of. Perhaps she’d just thought it was a tragic accident, and went about the rest of her life not knowing what horrors she’d prevented. The Bahrain Report was followed by a letter of commendation from Director Carter and a program from an award ceremony in her honour. It seemed everyone was pleased with her service anyway, even if they never understood the full extent of what she’d done. Bahrain was a success, by all accounts.

So, it was only natural that May was surprised when she saw a temporary medical discharge from field work “pending psychiatric assessment” after a panic attack at the Hub: some Agent N. Romanoff had found her shaking and sobbing in the bathroom, unable to breathe. The psych report that followed confirmed that the Other May had been more than just “shaken” after the Bahrain mission: she’d been traumatised. She couldn’t eat, she couldn’t sleep, she barely spoke, and she routinely experienced flashbacks to the mission. As soon as it noted her sudden aversion to touch, May knew. The Other May had known about the monster’s powers. She had known and never told anyone, not even her psychiatrist. Though the monster had been slain, it had still scarred her. She’d saved the world, but at a huge personal cost.

Then, a transfer request to the administration department: so that was how she had ended up there. It made sense, she supposed. She couldn’t stay a specialist while she didn’t have clearance for field work. Then, things took yet another turn for the worse, as May turned the page to find admission papers into a specialised trauma recovery psychiatric facility. The Other May had been dropped off by some unidentified good Samaritan, and deemed an ambiguous “possibly suicidal”. She was in the process of divorcing her husband at this point, it seemed: her psychiatrist noted that the Other May had found Andrew’s desperation to fix her “unbearable”, and she “needed space”. She moved out and filed for a divorce, and Andrew left S.H.I.E.L.D. to return to civilian life. So, that’s what had caused her marriage to fall apart: May hated the little monster a little more for that.

At least the Other May seemed to do better from there: there were lists of the medications she’d been put on and regular psych assessments detailing her recovery, as well as a glowing _“AVENGERS INTAKE ASSESSMENT”_ , compiled by Agent Coulson and Agent Romanoff arguing that, given time to recover from the trauma of Bahrain, she would still be an asset to any team. Eventually, she left the psych facility and was allowed to return to field duty. A few years later, she was assigned to a mobile command unit under Agent Coulson, along with Agent Ward, Agent Fitz, and Agent Simmons: that must have been the team that Simmons was talking about.

“May?”

She flinched, looking up to see Skye (damn it- Agent Johnson now) leaning against one of the filing cabinets, with her arms folded and a bemused expression.

“Johnson,” May said, and Johnson looked alarmed for a second.

“Excuse me?” she said, tilting her head to the side in confusion.

May didn’t know how to respond to that, “You interrupted me.”

“Right, yeah,” Johnson shook her head, “What are you reading?”

May held up the paper, “My file. It's my transfer to Agent Coulson’s mobile command unit. Sounds like I was reluctant to go.”

“Were you?” Johnson raised an eyebrow, “You didn’t seem to be. But you don’t really wear your emotions too close to the surface, I guess.”

“You were there?” May asked.

“That’s actually how I joined S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Johnson informed her, “You guys picked me up back when I was with the Rising Tide, let me join your team.”

“Rising Tide, right. Computer hackers,” May frowned, “You were involved in that in my world too.”

Johnson chuckled, “Yeah, I’m always finding trouble. Or trouble’s always finding me.”

“Me too, from the sounds of things,” May nodded at the file, “The Other May, she… she’s had a... she had an interesting career.”

“I bet,” Johnson smiled wistfully, “You never talk about your old missions with A.C.”

“A.C.?” May asked.

“Agent Coulson,” Johnson corrected herself, “You two have worked together for a while, from what I know.”

“Yes, it looks like it,” May agreed, “You’ve never read my file?”

“No way. I don’t… I don’t think we do that, do we? I’ve only seen what was mission relevant, which isn’t much. When we found out about your LMD, I pulled your last psych assessment to look for clues, but unfortunately, it just said, ‘crazy hot’… I guess that’s what we get for only having one psychiatrist,” Johnson smiled expectantly, but May didn’t know what she was waiting for. Perhaps it was just a joke May didn’t understand anymore.

She frowned instead, “My psychiatrist wrote that? Why?”

“Well, he wasn’t _your_ psychiatrist, he was _S.H.I.E.L.D.’s_ psychiatrist,” Johnson explained, as though that makes a difference, “I think it might have been an in-joke between you too. You were basically the whole administration department back then, so you filed the evaluations. It was probably just flirting.”

May nodded, trying to piece it together, “Flirting? He flirts with me? Are we dating? How many psychiatrists did the Other May end up with?”

Johnson laughed, “Just the one. Just Andrew. He was your-”

“My husband,” May interrupted, “Or ex-husband. He came back to S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“He did,” Johnson agreed, “You remember him?”

“No, but I’ve read about him, and I have pictures. We went on vacation together,” May told her, feeling stupid for remembering so little. Johnson nodded, looking dejected.

“You did. Almost didn’t come back, but you ended up sticking around once you did,” Johnson replied.

“She almost didn’t come back?” May repeated, “Why not?”

Johnson shrugged, “You never said.”

“You never asked?” May replied.

Johnson looked surprised, “No. I... I’d never think to ask you. I don’t think you’d tell me even if I did.”

May frowned, “I thought you were friends with the May of this world?”

Johnson hesitated, “Maybe friends wasn’t the right word.”

May hummed in agreement, looking down at her lap. So, her last psych assessment had been written by her ex-husband, Dr Andrew Garner. He called her “crazy hot”, which seemed an odd thing to say about the May she’d seen in the reports. Was it some flirtation between them, like Johnson had suspected? Had the Other May filed this away? She could picture that: curiously opening her psych assessment to find a flirty message from the man she once loved. Maybe that was how they had ended up back together again.

“Anyway,” Johnson interrupted her thoughts once again, “It’s almost time for lunch, Simmons sent me to get you.”

“Lunch?” May repeated incredulously, “I just got here. I haven’t even finished my tea.”

Johnson rolled her eyes, “It’s probably cold by now. You’ve been here a few hours.”

May sighed, closing the folder, and setting it on one of the desks, “You’re probably right, Johnson. Let’s go then.”

“Alright then,” Johnson nodded to herself as they left, “but you don’t call me Johnson.”

“I don’t?” May frowned, “I thought we used surnames here.”

“We do, usually,” Johnson agreed, “But you usually call me Daisy.”

“Why?” she asked.

Daisy paused, considering it for a moment, “I guess because you got used to calling me Skye? Johnson feels so formal compared to Skye. Everyone calls me Daisy now.”

May nodded thoughtfully, “So, why did you change it?”

“Found my birthparents, found my birthname,” Daisy explained, “Skye was just a pseudonym. After I found out who I really was, I didn’t need it.”

May hummed thoughtfully to herself, “Who you really were. You got all that from a name? I wish it were that easy.”

Daisy laughed, “well, there were a few other things. But it’s a long story.”

 

~*~

 

The kitchen was large, but it was already filling with people by the time that May and Daisy arrived. A.C. was preoccupied with cooking and listening to Simmons discuss something in a low tone. The other one who’d been imprisoned in the Framework, the one called ‘Mack’ who had to leave his little daughter behind because she was only made of bits of codes, was sitting at the table with a stern expression. A tiny Latina girl was sitting next to him, chattering away to him about something, but her eyes lit up when she saw May and Daisy enter the room.

“Agent May!” she said brightly, “Are you well?”

“Yes?” May said, even though she wasn’t sure if what she was counted as well, “I think so.”

Everyone’s attention had suddenly focused on her, and she shifted uncomfortably. At least they looked happy to see her- well, except for Mack, but that was to be expected under the circumstances. A.C. was looking at her so intensely that she couldn’t look directly at him, and instead, she offered Simmons as much of a smile as she could muster.

“Have you remembered anything?” Simmons asked hopefully.

“Nothing yet,” May said, wincing as Simmons’ smile faded instantly, “Did you have any luck with the Doctor?”

Simmons looked even more upset, and bowed her head, “No, he’s… he’s not taking it well. Screaming about Ophelia and Hydra and his world. He… it’s painful to see. He doesn’t remember _any_ thing, he just wants to be back with Madame Hydra. God, if she weren’t already dead, I’d kill her again for turning him into this.”

May nodded thoughtfully, “But it would be stranger if he _didn’t_ mourn her. Always going on about how he’d do anything for her, _he’d cross the universe for her_. They were very close.”

They all looked at her strangely for that.

“Did he really say that?” Simmons asked, “He’d _cross the universe_ for her?”

“All the time,” May agreed, “Why? Does that mean something?”

Simmons nodded, “It does. Or, it does to me. It’s… this isn’t good.”

“I’m sorry,” May said, for lack of anything better to say.

Simmons shook her head, standing up to cup May’s face in her hands, “You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. None of this- _not one single thing_ \- is your fault.”

May nodded, a little stunned by her forcefulness.

Simmons offered her a tight-lipped smile, and stepped back, “In any case, there’s nothing we can do for now. The best we can hope for is for is for them to come back naturally, like with Coulson, or for the lab to find something.”

“The lab?” May repeated, “You think they can fix this?”

Simmons shrugged, with a long sigh, “They’re seeing what they can find in AIDA’s system. Perhaps if we can figure out how your memories were rewritten, we can undo it. But at this point, there’s nothing concrete to go on. AIDA was using science far beyond anything we can comprehend, so even if we found what she did there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to replicate it. Hopefully, you and Mack and Fitz will be able to get some of your old memories back soon. Coulson has all of his old memories now, don’t you?”

A.C. nodded, “As far as I can tell.”

“Why can he remember, but we can’t?” May asked.

“It’s… complicated,” A.C. pulled a face, then sighed, “Long story short, I died.”

May shrugged, “So did I, A.C.”

“A.C.?” he repeated, then pulled a face at Daisy, “Did you tell her to do that?”

“Sorry, that was an accident,” Daisy said, “May, you don’t call him that, I do.”

“She’s not doing well with names, I’m afraid,” Simmons offered. May cringed inwardly, grimacing a little at yet another mistake.  The man’s expression softened, recognising her nervous tick, and he reached over to squeeze her hand tightly.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault,” he assured her gently, “you can call me whatever you want.”

“But what do I normally call you?” she asked, a little helplessly.

“Phil. Or Coulson,” he said, “You have a few choice names for me in Mandarin when you’re angry, but I can’t pronounce any of them.”

May half-smiled at that, “is that often?”

“Fortunately for me, you mostly keep your anger at me in a language I can understand,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

“How lucky,” May offered sarcastically. He grinned at her, and she had to look away again: the brightness in his eyes, searching in vain for a piece of May that she didn’t have… it was all too much. This man was just too much.

“Come on, sit down and have some lunch,” Daisy said, clapping her on the shoulder, “Coulson made mac and cheese.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t like-” May started, but Phil cut her off.

“You like mine,” he said firmly, “You’ll like this.”

May frowned, but relented, and let Daisy and Simmons guide her over to the kitchen table and seat her between them. Phil sat across from her, still watching her like a hawk as she ate, for some sign of the Other May. She felt a little betrayed by her own body, that it could be more loyal to Phil’s version of her than her own personal tastes. Fortunately, she was right about this one thing.

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t,” May said as she set down her fork, trying not to sound too pleased that she had been right, “I’ve never much liked pasta or cheese, even on their own. Together, not at all.”

Phil looked stunned, “Wait… you really don’t like it? But you’ve always liked this.”

“I guess that just something else that the Other May and I don’t have in common,” May offered apologetically.

Phil sat back in his chair, shaking his head, “You always _said_ you did. I… I’ll make you something else then.”

May waved her hand dismissively, “There’s no need. I’m not hungry anyway.”

“You _should_ be hungry,” he argued, “You haven’t eaten in a month!”

“I had half a sandwich,” May replied, and Phil just raised an eyebrow in response. 

“It’ll take a few days for your appetite to return, but you should try to eat, at least a little. Both of you,” she added, nodding at Mack, who’d barely touched the mac and cheese either.

Mack grimaced, but nodded, “It’s just… a lot. It’s all a lot.”

The Latina girl clicked her tongue in agreement, rubbing his arm, “You’ll be alright. Slow and steady, Turtle Man. You’ll be alright.”

“Turtle Man?” Mack repeated, “what's that?”

The girl snorted, “That’s you, slowpoke. You’re so slow at everything.”

Mack looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, then shook his head, “Isn’t everyone slow compared to your super-speed?”

May flinched at that. An _inhuman_.

“It’s okay, you like YoYo,” Phil assured her softly, still noticing her every micro-expression, “Don’t be scared.”

“Why would _May_ be scared of _me_?” the girl- YoYo? - snorted, “Melinda May fears _nothing_ , not even death.”

“She doesn’t get scared?” May asked, frowning, “Not ever? Not at all?”

“You don’t _show_ it,” Phil corrected her, “You have to look very carefully, to know what you’re thinking. You don’t like people to worry about you.”

“That… that makes sense, I guess. My Avengers Intake Assessment said I was an excellent team player,” May mused. Phil grinned, and the girls’ jaws all collectively dropped open.

“Avengers? As is… _the Avengers_?” Daisy leant back in her chair, wide-eyed with amazement, “that’s… wow. Seriously?”

“Does that mean something?” May asked.

Phil chuckled, “It’s kind of a big deal. The Avengers… it’s a program S.H.I.E.L.D. ran for powered people. Earth’s last line of defence type of thing. You were meant to help me run it actually, before Bahrain.”

“Do I… does she… I’m not an inhuman!” May said quickly, but she couldn’t be sure of anything here, “My results all came back negative, my family history is clean, I... I’m not a… right?”

“No, you’re not,” Phil assured her, “You’re not an inhuman. You don’t have any powers. You’re just an excellent secret agent. We thought you’d be able to help guide them. Super powered people can be a little… emotionally damaged, sometimes. They needed a good influence.”

YoYo snorted in disbelief, “You think the _Avengers_ are _emotionally damaged_? And _May_ was going to show them how not to be?”

Phil sighed, “You didn’t know her back then. May was always really good with that sort of thing.”

“Before Bahrain?” May asked, “I read my file. What... what happened to your world’s May after. She took it badly, didn't she?”

“She did,” Coulson said softly, frowning down at his hands, “Your file… I imagine you have questions.”

“Just a few,” May offered, then Coulson looked up to raise an eyebrow at her knowingly, “To begin with.”

He waved a hand, “Alright then. Ask away.”

May paused, considering her first question, “Why weren’t we Hydra? You and I?”

Phil blinked at her, frowning, “Uhh… what? Why _would_ we be Hydra?”

“You and I were in Sausalito together,” May prompted him, “The retrieval op?”

“Well, sure, but-” Phil suddenly stopped, jaw dropping, “Wait, you joined Hydra after _Sausalito_?”

“What’s Sausalito?” Daisy asked.

“That was our first op together,” Phil shook his head, “We were fresh out of the academy. Wait, you were a sleeper agent? For Hydra? All that  time?”

“I wasn’t. At least, I don’t think I was. _Garrett_ was recruited, then when Hydra came out of the shadows, he took me in,” she explained, “And you were him in this world. I just thought… Hydra didn’t recruit you after Sausalito?”

“No, they didn’t. Nobody would have tried, and even if they had of, we wouldn’t have joined,” Coulson shook his head angrily, “ _Garrett_ would though. He went on the Sausalito op in the Framework? Why would AIDA do that?”

“Yes, he was my partner, for…” May shook her head with a laugh, “ _Decades.”_

“Well, _that_ explains everything,” Daisy muttered to Simmons, who hummed in agreement.

“What does that mean?” May asked, frowning at both of them, “You… Did you know him? Is he here?”

“He took my place in your life,” Coulson said, more to himself than to anyone else, “ _Garrett_ took my place.”

“What happened to him?” May prompted him urgently, “Is he okay? Can you take me to see him?”

“Garrett is dead,” Phil said sharply, and May’s blood ran cold, “He was Hydra.”

May sat back in her chair, shaking her head, “No… we… he can’t be dead. Not here too. Not here too. I… I didn’t hurt him?”

“No,” Phil said slowly, “ _You_ didn’t hurt _him_.”

May knew exactly what that meant, “he would never hurt me. John would never hurt _anyone._ He's a good man. The best person I've ever met.”

Phil hesitated, weighing his words carefully, “He _ordered_ our _executions_.”

“No. No!” May stood up abruptly, stepping away from the table, “He would _never_ hurt me. He was… he was my _best friend_.”

Phil got up too, and was by her side in an instant, “Yes! Yes, he was our friend! He was our friend, and he lied to us, and betrayed us, and he wanted us dead. He tried to _kill_ you, he-”

“No, he didn’t,” she growled, backing away from him, “He didn’t. You take that back, right now.”

“May-” he stepped closer again, reaching out for her arm.

“No!” she snapped tearfully, shoving him away, “don’t _touch_ me! I don’t _know_ you!”

The hurt in his eyes instantly shot a pang of guilt through May. Something in the back of her mind told her that she didn’t want this, that she didn’t want Phil to be upset, that the last thing she’d ever want to do was to hurt him. But the dominant part of her, the part that had just heard him dismiss her best friend as a liar and a traitor and a murderer, was out for blood.

“Melinda,” he said soothingly, the first time anyone in this world had called her that, “Hey. Calm down. Don’t get yourself worked up.”

“Well, maybe this is just _your_ May coming through,” she snarled, eyes narrowing, “Isn’t this what happened? Panic attacks and suicide attempts? Some anonymous stranger had to drop her off at a psych care facility. Did you know that? She was all alone. She was always so alone.”

“I-” he started, but she wasn’t done.

She stepped closer to him, staring up at him defiantly with a look of disgust, “Maybe if she had of had Garrett in Bahrain instead of you, she wouldn’t have wanted to be dead.”

With that, she stormed out, and everyone had the good sense to let her go. All the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel shrunk away from her when she approached, the look of rage mixed with anguish on her face enough to scare anyone away. Every fibre of her being wanted to hate Phil Coulson, but she couldn’t. The Other May was still in her somewhere, loving him. Even after all the terrible things he’d said about Garrett.

Once her anger ran out of fire, she let herself cry, sinking down against a wall and hugging her knees to her chest. Garrett was dead. Garrett was _dead._ Even if this world, she’d lost her partner too. Only this time, she’d never had him at all. She let herself sob bitterly, let herself scream and cry at the world, curling up into herself to try and make herself whole again, but nothing helped. That was the same in both worlds at least: no matter how much she wanted it, she couldn’t change what had happened. Garrett would always be lost to her.

She let herself cry until there were no more tears left in her, then hugged her knees a little tighter to her chest, trying to steady her shaky breathing. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there for, but eventually she had regained enough composure to look up and realise she was in an entirely unfamiliar part of the base. Perhaps it was just that she had gotten lost, or maybe it was the Other May in her somewhere, telling her subconsciously where to go. Instead of ending up back at her room, she’d ended up in front of a heavy closed door, staring at large printed letters proclaiming:

**VAULT D**

~*~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May visits an old colleague in Vault D.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fitz is quite sweary in this one.

Wiping her eyes, she stood up shakily, eyes still focused on the door. Vault D was the holding cell for the Doctor from what she understood. Another person from her world. Looking over her shoulder to make sure she was alone, she carefully pressed her key card to the lock. It flashed green as the door clicked unlocked and May rolled her eyes. They really needed to get actual locks here.

Letting herself into the vault, she found herself at the top of a staircase, looking down at the Doctor, who was pacing back and forth across the room in all his deranged glory. Oddly, she fixated on the fact that he was still dressed in the sweatpants and shirt they’d all woken up in: out of his suit and away from his guards, he looked so much smaller than she remembered. He seemed to be contained in half the room behind a line of tape and orange translucent netting of some kind, that lit up every time he walked too close to the edge. She cautiously headed down the stairs, unsure of how he would respond to her. Hell, at this point, she was even unsure of how _she_ would respond to _him._ The closer she got, the more messed up he looked: he was covered in cuts and bruises, eyes darting around wildly, hand convulsing, muttering under his breath in a venomous tone. He glanced over at her when she came into the light, and his expression shifted to a look of disdain.

“Well, well, well,” he snarled, “Melinda fuckin’ May. What kind of monster are you in this world?”

“Doctor,” she nodded, because she was used to these moods of his by now, “What… what happened to you?”

“Did you hear?” he sneered, “We’ve all been liberated! Welcome to paradise, you traitorous bitch.”

“Is that what they told you?” May asked, “Paradise?”

He rolled his eyes, “Why do you _care_?”

“I know you,” she said simply, because she didn’t really have another explanation.

He scoffed at that, “Oh! You know me? How many fuckin’ times have I heard that today? Why in God’s name do you think you know me? You have no right-”

“We met at your father’s house,” May interrupted him, because she couldn’t take another of the Doctor’s monologues on top of everything else today, “My partner, John Garrett, was a friend of his, he introduced us.”

The Doctor paused, then his lips curled into a sinister smile, “ _Oh_. So, they couldn’t ‘fix’ you either, then? I guess you’re just a regular traitor then.”

“I guess so,” May agreed, because she’d never cared what he thought about her so long as she was kept alive, “You’re still… _you,_ then?”

“Yes,” he spat, “I’m still _me._ The only reason that the teacher remembers is because there were already holes in his brain to begin with.”

May blinked at him incredulously, “There were _what_?”

The Doctor snickered to himself, because he was an asshole in every world, “They haven’t told you _anything_ , have they?”

“I know some things,” May said defensively, folding her arms, “and I’m out _here_ while you’re stuck in _there_. So, there’s that.”

He glowered at her, but for once didn’t have a snarky comeback. They both knew perfectly well he’d screwed up somewhere along the line here.

The Doctor eventually elected to ignore that comment, and gave a long-suffering sigh, “I need to find Ophelia. I need to find where they’re keeping her. You tell your subversive friends that they can’t keep us apart: I’d cross the universe to-”

“Be with Ophelia,” May finished for him, rolling his eyes, “And it’s all going _so_ well.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” the Doctor sneered, “You’re not nearly clever enough.”

May rolled her eyes, stepping closer to him. The netting lit up again, and the Doctor grunted, but made no attempt to move away. It was strange to think that the Doctor could be kept at bay by transparent net, away from his beloved Ophelia. She reached up to touch the beams of light, triggering a shock of electricity, and a sudden rush of pain as her skin was scorched. She snatched her hand back and cradled it to her chest, to find that it wasn’t burnt at all. There wasn’t even a mark.

“What _is_ that?” she asked, staring at her unscathed fingers in disbelief, “What kind of technology do they have here?”

He scoffed, “They’re significantly more advanced, admittedly, but they’re reckless with their technology. I suppose their version of me invented this, ironically. Can’t have the scary Doctor getting out. They may not know what I’m capable of yet, but they know enough to be afraid.”

“ _Idiot_ ,” May said, because she so rarely got an excuse to say it to him, “What, your father gave you lectures on never trusting anyone, but he never taught you never to show the enemy your hand? And you have the nerve to call _me_ stupid.”

The Doctor eyed her thoughtfully, “Huh.”

“Huh?” she repeated sarcastically, “Huh, what?”

He sighed, rolling his eyes, “Of all my moronic henchmen, I got stuck in a parallel universe with _you_.”

“I don’t know if henchman is the right word,” May replied, “I’ve got better aim, and I don’t follow orders as well. Although, I hear they get great satisfaction from compliance.”

“I wish we'd had the foresight to brainwash you,” the Doctor muttered, glaring at her, “it's too bad you were so eager to begin the slaughter. We never considered that you’d be anything but a mindless killer.”

“That’s not true,” May shook her head quickly, “That’s not _true.”_

“No? Because you never questioned a single order until the subversives showed up,” the Doctor smirked, “how do you know that who you are now is who you _really_ are? What makes you think that they didn’t just turn you into something else to suit their goals, to make you compliant to their needs?”

“They didn't,” May retorted, trying to sound confident in spite of the fact she had no idea what to believe about anything anymore, “I saw the wires, the computers, the servers. The other world, it was just a computer programme running inside our heads. It wasn’t real.”

“So, if the world that you came from _wasn’t real_ ,” the Doctor sneered, “then what does that make _you_?”

May froze, eyes widening with fear. 

The Doctor chuckled at her expression, with a wicked grin, “Oh. But you never thought that, what it means to just be a rogue piece of code that came back.”

May turned from him, running her fingers through her hair, “It wasn’t real. _This_ world is the _real_ world. And you’re just… crazy.”

She sank into the chair, folding her arms and staring at him expectantly. The Doctor’s mood instantly shifted, as he became hyper-focused on the tablet sitting on the stand beside her, with a familiar look of scheming in his eyes. May glanced down at the tablet, and realised why: it had the settings for the containment chamber. With just a tap on the screen, she could set him free. Why on earth would anyone leave that in here?

“Maybe I’m crazy, but that means you’re crazy too,” the Doctor smirked, drawing close enough to the netting that it illuminated his eyes with soft orange light, “Let me out of here, and I’ll get us back home. We can go back to the real world. I can fix all of this if you get me out of here.”

May paused, biting her lower lip, and the Doctor’s face split into a devilish grin. She picked up the tablet, examining the different options it offered her. It was really a stupid idea of them to leave this in here, where anyone could find it. 

“I could let you out,” she agreed, “Or I could kill you. Have you ever been asphyxiated, Doctor? I hear it’s a terrible way to die.”

There was a flash of recognition mixed with fear in the Doctor’s eyes for a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it arrived. He smoothed down his shirt, eyes narrowing. 

“You won’t. You need me,” he sneered.

“I need you,” May scoffed, “I need you like I need a bullet to the brain.”

“You’ll be trapped here forever if I die,” the Doctor warned her, “ _Forever_.”

“Maybe it’s worth it,” May replied.

“Going home is the only way to move forward,” he told her matter-of-factly, his voice as smooth as silk, “You’ll never be who they want you to be. You’ll never be _her_ , and they’ll always wish you were. Come home, with Ophelia and me. I can build a _real_ paradise for all of us, if you get me out of here.”

She was about to argue back, when she was interrupted by the door at the top of the stairs slamming open. 

“May! May!”

She looked up to see Phil, Daisy, and Simmons rushing into the room, wild-eyed and frantic.

“Let me out,” the Doctor snarled, urgent once more, “Agent May! Let me out!”

She hesitated, looking back and forth between the Doctor and the agents, and that was long enough for Phil to reach her and snatch the tablet out of her hand. With a few taps on the screen, the doctor was instantly silenced and vanished behind an opaque screen.

“Wha… what?” May blinked at where he’d been in disbelief, “What happened?”

“May,” Phil gasped, struggling to catch his breath, “What the hell are you doing down here?”

“I… I don’t know,” she shrugged, looking between the three of them helplessly, “I just ended up here.”

“You just ended up here?” Simmons repeated, “how?”

May shrugged again, “I don’t know? I just found it, and then we started talking.”

“What about?” Daisy asked.

May hesitated, and shook her head, “I don’t _know._ That he thinks I’m stupid and wants Ophelia back. He’s the same as always.”

Simmons and Daisy exchanged a look.

“May, you can’t be down here. He’s not…” Daisy pulled a face, trying to think of the right word, “…stable.”

“Well, neither am _I_ ,” May retorted, then shook her head, “I… I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t be here.”

Daisy looked bewildered for a moment then sighed, shaking her head, and put an arm around May’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she told her gently, “It’s okay, just… just don’t do it again, okay? Come on, let’s get you back to your room.”

 

~*~

 

As it turned out, they were on the complete opposite side of the base to her room. It was a long and quiet walk back, with both Simmons and Daisy exchanging serious looks with each other that meant nothing to May. Phil watched her closely, as if he saw something in her that the others didn’t, but whatever he saw he didn’t speak of. May wondered idly if the Other May would have ever done anything like that. She had once been reckless and impulsive, after all. Was this a normal thing for the Other May to do, or was it a part of her that had been lost after Bahrain? It certainly wasn’t a normal part of her.

“Here you are, home sweet home,” Simmons said briskly, turning to examine May’s face carefully, “Look, May, you- wait. Were you crying? Did Fitz do this to you?”

“What?” May frowned, ducking her head self-consciously, “No, no, of course not. I didn’t care about what he thought of me when he could kill me on a whim. Why should I care now?”

“You were _crying_ ,” Simmons repeated in disbelief, more to herself than to anyone else.

“Well, we’ll let you get some rest,” Daisy said before May could even think of a response, nodding at the other two. Simmons smiled weakly, but Phil made no move to leave, still focused entirely on May.

He cupped her face in his real hand, running his thumb over her tear-stained cheek, “Melinda, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said, bowing her head, “I… can we talk?”

He nodded, and opened her door for her, “I think we should. I need to tell you something very important.”

“Alright,” May agreed slowly and nodded goodbye to Daisy and Simmons, who remained looking concerned in the hallway. She closed the door gently and went to sit on the bed, wringing her fingers together. Phil leant against the doorframe to the bathroom, staring sternly at the floor.

“Phil. I-” she started, but he waved a hand to cut her off.

“I need to tell you something first. Listen, you need to know it wasn’t some anonymous stranger that admitted you into the psych facility,” he told her firmly, “I don’t know, I guess your mom’s name was redacted from the admission papers, for security reasons. But you weren’t all alone. You need to know that you weren’t alone.”

May bit her lower lip, trying to hold back tears, “It… it was my mom?”

“Yeah. It was your mom,” Phil reassured her, “You’d been staying with her, during the divorce, and realised that you needed more help than she could give you. That’s how you ended up at the psych facility. Not because you were abandoned, not because you didn’t have anyone to take care of you, but because it was the only way to keep you safe. You need to know there was never a time in your life here that you were not loved. Not one moment, not one _second_.”

She stared up at him for a moment, stunned, then shifted her gaze down to the floor. It had been her mom. Her _mom_. It made sense that she would go to her if she was scared, because she'd always gone to her mother when she didn’t know who else to turn to. She had gone to her mom, desperate for her to make things better, but there hadn’t been a way for Mama to fix things this time. She pictured her mother, who never admitted defeat, not _once_ in her life, taking her youngest daughter to a psychiatric trauma recovery facility. What had that been like? Had she cried? Had her mom? She’d only see her mom cry a few times in her life, but it was always for her children. Had she chosen to keep her name off the records out of shame, or was it just her CIA background that had caused them to cut that detail?

“I… thank you. Thank you for telling me that. And I am sorry, for what I said,” May offered, “you know, for implying you caused your partner to attempt to commit suicide. That was too far.”

“I know you are. You always say things in the heat of the moment that you don’t really mean,” he sighed, “you don’t talk much, but when you really want to you, can destroy anyone who stands in your way.”

May winced at that, “I am really, _really_ sorry. It was cruel of me. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. I’m sure she didn’t blame you.”

“I know she didn’t,” Phil agreed, “because she never did _try_. It was a voluntary admission. You… you felt like you were losing control of your own mind. You were scared that you might do something you’d regret. We all were.”

May nodded solemnly, “She had people then? To take care of her?”

“Always,” Phil promised, “We visited you all the time.”

“You did?” May asked.

“Almost every day. We were all mostly stationed out of the Triskelion then, so we were all in D.C. with you most of the time. I used to come over and cook dinner, and Clint used to take you out for tai chi, and you went running with Nat, and O'Brien made you mixtapes, and Jasper would bring you all those exotic teas, and we’d all helped you redecorate your room every time you transferred…” his voice trailed off there, and he shook his head, “we all loved you so, so much. We would never have left you there all alone.” 

“What happened when my parents died?” she asked, “Did she know?”

“When… when your parents died?” Phil repeated, “No, May, they’re still alive. They visited you all the time too.”

May blinked up at him, her heart skipping a beat, “My mom and dad are okay?”

“Yes! Yes, May, they’re fine,” he assured her quickly, “They’re old, but they’ll probably still be around for a few more decades. Your mom’s still in Virginia, and your dad’s in Arizona.”

“They’re okay,” May repeated, feeling giddy at the thought, “They’re… wait, _Arizona_? Really?”

“Yeah, it’s… _weird_ ,” he agreed, “There’s like a golf thing? Or something? I don’t know. But, he’s happy. You went out to stay with him for a while when he broke his hip. But he’s fine now. They were both fine, last time you spoke to them.”

May nodded, taking a moment to process that. Her parents were alive. They were alive and well in this world. Her mom was still in Virginia- still in their old house, maybe? She had always loved that house. And her dad! Off in the middle of the desert, playing golf. The Other May had gone to take care of her dad after he broke his hip. Had he been difficult about it? She could picture that, him arguing back every time she tried to help him with something, stubborn as ever. She smiled to herself, and then up at Phil. His whole face lit up when he saw her smiling, and he grinned back at her.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I am really sorry for what I said about Garrett,” he said, “Genuinely.”

May sighed, “You didn’t know him-”

“But I know you,” he interrupted, “I know _you_. And I know how attached you get to the people you love. It was thoughtless of me, to talk like that to you, knowing you like I know you. It's just… the John Garrett of this world was a friend too. And what he did… it still hurts. A lot. All the time. To see you talk about the man who almost killed you like that, I… but that wasn’t your Garrett. By the time Hydra rose to power, this world's Garrett was a completely different person.”

“He was a good man,” May told him.

Phil hesitated, “I… I don’t know about that. But, I believe that being around you could have changed him, for the better. Just being your partner made me braver and stronger. Perhaps being your partner made Garrett selfless and good.”

May shook her head, knowing that that goodness she saw in Garrett had always been there, but not seeing any point in arguing about it again. He’d never known Garrett like she did, and she’d never known Garrett like he had.

“At least I still had Sitwell,” May said, “he was on our team, right? I saw that in the file.”

“He… he was. Look, that file is only one tiny part of your story,” Phil told her, “You are so much more than mission reports and psych evaluations.”

“Well, I guess I’ll never know,” May said bitterly, “the Other May lived for five decades in this world and ended up with only two photographs of her dead ex-husband. There’s _nothing_.”

He crossed the room to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in his own, “I promise you, you’re more than that.”

She nodded again, because that seemed like the right thing to do.

He moved to sit up beside her on the bed, but kept one of her hands in his, “I’ll… I’ll see if I can find something more. There has to be _something._ Most of our friends are now dead or on the run from the government, but I’ve still got a few contacts left.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, “For… for everything. You’ve been so good to me, in spite of... you know.”

“You deserve it,” he told her, “We’ve been best friends for over thirty years. I owe you as much.”

“But you’re not just doing this out of some imagined debt,” May remarked knowingly, “I can tell.”

He smiled and stood up, “Yeah, I know you can. I’ll go see what I can find for you.”

She nodded and let him kiss her on the cheek as he got up to leave. He paused once he got to the door, and looked back at her.

“May… You weren’t really going to let Fitz out, were you?” Phil asked suddenly.

“What? No, of course not,” May lied smoothly, “I just… froze up. It’s… this world is confusing.”

He nodded thoughtfully but looked as though he didn’t quite believe her.

“Where is Madame Hydra, exactly?” May asked, “In Vault E? Surely a robot could break out from there.”

“Don’t worry, you’re safe now,” Phil assured her, “She can’t hurt you here. Not again.”

“Are you sure?” May asked, “Madame Hydra’s brain in an immortal body seems… dangerous.”

“She’s not immortal,” Phil replied, “Once Simmons’ team has finished extracting information from her, all her software and her body will be destroyed. She’s being taken apart in the lab as we speak.”

“Huh,” May said.

“Huh?” Phil repeated.

She shook her head, “Nothing.”

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May decides to seek out her own answers in the lab, but runs into some unexpected trouble.

Dinner was quiet.

It made sense, of course, that things would be sombre after what had happened at lunch. May wasn’t prepared to offer an explanation, and no one asked for one. It seemed no one asked much of her about anything. Were they afraid of the Other May? What was there to be afraid of?

The conversation was focused on the happy return of some former agents that May no longer remembered, and the vacant position of Director. The Patriot had been Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. here too, and he had passed away at some point during the robot uprising, leaving no suitable second in command. Phil had become Acting Director until a replacement was found, but was adamant that he wasn’t going to be taking the position permanently.

“You could just remove the ‘acting’,” Daisy shrugged, mouth full of food, “That’s what’s easiest.”

“There will be nothing _easy_ about convincing the President that a dead guy who ran an illegal spy agency should be in charge of the newly legitimised S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Phil retorted, rolling his eyes, “we should just let Talbot assign us someone else. Mace did… alright. For the most part.”

“Sure, he was a good _person_ , but let’s not forget that he _lied_ to us and was using a deadly cocktail of drugs to pretend to be inhuman. The last thing we need is General Talbot to try and make another super-soldier, or worse, make _himself_ Director,” Simmons sighed exasperatedly, “It would really be easier for everyone if you just kept the job.”

“Are you forgetting all the terrible things that happened last time I was Director?” Phil protested, “Do you not remember the whole zombie Ward thing? We almost caused a crazy inhuman to wipe out humanity. Twice, if you think about it.”

Daisy winced, “Well, _sure_ … but we did stop them both.”

“Well, who was your second in command, when you were Director?” May asked, perplexed that they hadn’t mentioned it yet, “Can’t they take over for you?”

Phil grimaced, “ _You_ were my second in command. And when you weren’t available, it was Mack.”

May frowned, “Oh. Well. That’s a problem now.”

“I was third in command of S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Mack asked, looking stunned, “I thought I was a _mechanic_.”

“A really _good_ mechanic,” Phil offered, “Who had a shotgun axe, and put people in chokeholds like a pro.”

Mack blinked at him, wide-eyed, “That… doesn’t sound like a mechanic.”

“You’ve got a… _broad_ job description," Phil shrugged,  "sometimes you’re fixing cars, sometimes you’re beating up ghosts, and sometimes you’re running S.H.I.E.L.D.... I think at this point you just go along with everything.”

“ _Right_ ,” Mack said slowly, “Okay then.”

“So, until either May or Mack are capable of and willing to become Director, you’re really our only option,” Simmons pointed out.

“It’s not happening,” Phil said firmly, “End of discussion.”

Daisy and Simmons both sighed, but reluctantly let silence fall over the table again. May picked at her slice of pizza thoughtfully. The Other May had been second in command of a secret illegal spy agency. It seemed like that psych evaluation got “reckless and impulsive” right. Had she liked that? Her mother had been Director of the CIA for a while but had found it to be a terrible burden. She could only oversee operations, only focus on the big picture, and wasn’t able to just go and fix things herself anymore. Everyone had done their best to make things difficult for her too, because no one respected a tiny Chinese woman as their leader, not then. Would they respect May now? Or would they dismiss her leadership because she wasn’t who they wanted her to be?

She thought back to the Doctor’s talk of _holes_ in Phil Coulson’s brain, and bit her lower lip. What could that possibly mean? What had they done to him to make him remember? Had he had his brain cloned like she had, and then torn apart? Would they do the same to her, to try and force the Other May’s memories back through?

What if the Doctor was _right_?

She’d known him for years, after all. He wasn’t much of a liar because he’d never needed to be. She knew him and knew what he was capable of. The people of this world, though they claimed to have known her, she didn’t know at all. The Doctor was easy, predictable even. So, what reason could he possibly have to claim that Phil Coulson had holes in his brains unless there was some truth to it? She knew that they had the technology here to duplicate brains if they wanted to, and they could change what was inside them. How could she trust that they wouldn’t do the same thing to her? She didn’t _know_ any of them. Would they tear her apart if they thought they could get the Other May back?

She could do it. Get Ophelia’s parts to the Doctor, release him out from Vault D, and go home. No one would even know until it was too late to stop them. She could go back to being who she used to be, where everything made sense. It would be so much easier, to chalk this up as just some terrible nightmare. If the Doctor could bring back Ophelia, maybe he could bring back Garrett too? After all, he’d promised her a paradise.

“What’s wrong?” Phil asked her softly, brow furrowed with worry.

She offered him a tight-lipped smile, “Oh, nothing. I'm just thinking.”

Phil didn’t look like he believed her, but didn’t press her for more details.

“I’m here if you need me,” he reminded her, and that was the end of that. But how much help could Phil possible be? Did he even know what they’d done to him? She watched him contemplatively, but had no idea what she was looking for. How could you tell if someone’s brain was falling apart? Phil glanced up at her and smiled brightly, pleased that she seemed to be thinking of him. She gave him her warmest smile back, and took another bite of her pizza.

She needed to get the hell out of here.

 

~*~

 

She made her way to the lab after the team had dispersed again after dinner, carefully retracing her steps from this morning. She was pleasantly surprised to find that she actually remembered the way. She might not remember any of her old life, but at least she didn’t have holes in her brain: at least, not as far as she could tell. How could you tell if there was something wrong inside of your own head?

Unfortunately, there were still a few overeager scientists working away diligently in spite of the late hour, which would make it impossible to do anything. She couldn’t see any obvious signs of Madame Hydra’s presence, but Phil had said they were taking her apart. There would probably only be small pieces of her by now, too small to see unless you knew what you were looking for.

“Agent May!”

She looked up to see Simmons approaching her, looking pleased (if a little surprised) to see her, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” May lied smoothly, “And I only know where, maybe five, places are.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it all out soon,” Simmons assured her, “Why did you want to see me?”

May paused, “I also only know maybe five people. We’re friends, right? Don't I ever come to see you?”

“Um, not _really_ ,” Simmons admitted, “But you are very busy.”

“Oh,” May said softly, “I… I could leave... if you want.”

“No, no, no, of course not,” Simmons assured her, “Stay, please.”

May offered her a small smile and a nod, looking around the lab, “I've still got nothing.”

“Well, I’m sure something will trigger a memory,” Simmons replied, as she went back to her workstation. May followed her slowly, carefully examining the lab for any trace of Madame Hydra.

“What are you working on?” May asked, hoping to get some more clues into what they were planning on doing to her. 

“Oh, all our resources are going to deconstructing AIDA and trying to get back your memories,” Simmons told her cheerfully, “Unfortunately, I’m a biochemist, so there’s little I can do for them to help deconstruct AIDA or the Framework, but I am looking back into GH.325.”

“GH.325?” May repeated questioningly. On one of the desks, there was a Post-It note, with “ _M.MAY MEMORIES: V1 FRAMEWORK BAHRAIN_ ” scrawled on it in unfamiliar handwriting, and a tiny memory chip. She stared at it for a moment, concentrating all her willpower on maintaining a neutral expression. They had her memories. They had her memories just sitting on a memory chip in their lab, as if they were just another work assignment. She slipped it into her pocket, making sure that no one was watching her and that she was just out of the security camera’s line of sight. She had a computer in a tiny isolated office where she worked alone. She could probably see what was on it without anyone ever knowing.

“It’s a whole complicated thing, but it was one of the super drugs used to bring Agent Coulson back from the dead,” Simmons was telling her, seemingly not paying too much attention to May at all, “Very powerful. It could be one of the reasons why he remembered so quickly. If I can replicate it, I may be able to help you and Fitz and Mack remember too.”

“Don’t I have that already in me?” May asked, “From when I died?”

“No, no,” Simmons assured her, “You were dead for just a few minutes, we only needed to restart your heart.”

“So, how long was Phil dead for?” May asked.

Simmons hesitated, “I… I’m not sure of the exact time.”

May knew there was a lie in there, but decided not to push it, so she just nodded. 

“I should go ask Cross to run these tonight,” Simmons muttered to herself, “May, I’ll be back in a second.”

“Sure,” May replied, and Simmons clapped her on the shoulder as she darted out of the lab. May took the opportunity to look over at the other side of the lab, which was less medical and more technological. There were more signs of their work towards understanding the robot here, with notes like “ _sent you AIDA’s original primary objective codes. Check for flaws by Mon? Thanks”_ stuck to computer monitors. On a workbench at the edge of the room, someone had unceremoniously dumped Madame Hydra’s decapitated head, half-covered under a towel. May picked it up, turning her over in her hands, and examined her former boss with morbid fascination. She certainly looked dead: pale and lifeless, glassy eyes staring blankly out at the world. Her neck exposed what she truly was, all pieces of wire and metal poking out where there should have been bloodied mess of muscle and bone. So, Madame Hydra really was just a robot. 

"What happened to you?" May murmured to herself, biting her lower lip. Someone behind her cleared their throat, and May’s blood ran cold. She didn’t let it show on her face and turned around with an expression of perfect innocence, looking up to see a blonde woman towering above her and narrowing her eyes at May. 

The woman folded her arms, “Hello, Agent May.”

“Hello… Agent?” she tried.

“Morse,” the woman said coldly, “What _exactly_ are you doing here?”

“Waiting for Simmons,” May said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Simmons works over there,” Morse indicated towards the other side of the lab, “Why don’t you put down AIDA and come with me?”

 

~*~

 

May had been interrogated a lot of times in her life, and the Other May probably had been too. But this, she was almost certain, was the first time in either of their lives that she’d gone to an interrogation and genuinely not known the answers to “who are you?” and “what are you doing?”.

“I just need to ask you a few questions,” Morse said lightly, as she sat down across from May. The interrogation room was small, with only one security camera, a one-way mirror, and one standard width door. She could get out if she wanted to, if it came down to that, but for now May just stared back at Morse, expressionless. She was good at that sort of thing.

“What were you doing in the lab, May?” Morse asked, still so calm and casual. This girl was a pro.

“The same as whatever _you_ were doing in the lab, Morse,” May replied, leaning back in her chair, and folding her arms.

“I work there,” Morse said dryly, “Now your turn.”

Damn it. What kind of interrogator worked in a lab?

“Did they tell you what happened to me?” she tried, watching Morse’s expression carefully. There was a flicker of sadness in her eyes, just for a second, but it was enough to tell May all she needed. Morse must have been another one of her ‘friends’ in this world. Good, she could use that.

Agent Morse nodded slowly, “Yes, I’ve spoken with the others.”

Well, that was too ambiguous to be helpful, but it was something. Best to assume she had talked to everyone, and Morse was just another agent she used to work with.

“Do we know each other? Did we? Before?” May asked, letting her voice waver a little, “Because I… I think I know you.”

Morse’s expression softened a little at that because she was too predictable, “You do? I… My name’s Bobbi. You might remember that more.”

May closed her eyes, pretending to concentrate, “Bobbi. Bobbi Morse.”

She wondered if she could get away with having a dramatic revelation over knowing her name, but decided against it. She’d already demonstrated to everyone else that she was bad with names now, and she didn’t know how much Bobbi Morse knew. Instead, she shook her head in frustration, opening her eyes and making herself blink back tears. Morse looked alarmed at that, but shifted closer to May, looking concerned. Too far? Simmons didn’t seem to think the Other May was capable of being very emotional. It was probably better to dial it back a little, for now.

“No, I don’t know your name,” she said, with a long-suffering sigh, “I’m sorry, I… there’s something about you. There’s something about you that I’ve known. I… I think I missed you.”

“Oh,” Morse exclaimed, leaning across the table, eyes widening with a glimmer of hopefulness, “You missed me?”

“I… I don’t know. It’s stupid,” May said dismissively, turning her face away from Morse and curling away from her to make herself smaller, more vulnerable, “It’s stupid, and I don’t remember anything about anyone. I don’t even know _why_ I missed you, because I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Morse assured her, standing up from her chair right on cue, and coming around the desk to sit next to May. The interrogation was derailed now, for certain. Her mother had said it a thousand times: you could never _really_ interrogate friends.

“Nothing about this is okay,” May told the floor, shaking her head, and running a hand through her hair. Small. Tired. Frightened. Vulnerable. It wouldn’t take long now.

“I just need to ask you a few questions,” Morse said again, but it was completely different now because she’d lost the upper hand. She was gentler now, almost pleading with May. She’d take any answer that led to her leaving here with her friend. So, all May needed was that answer.

May sighed, looking up at her with sad, scared eyes, “Look… I… I don’t remember why. I needed to do something to the robot. Or, I was meant to, before the Framework mess. I just don’t remember what it was anymore. But now, it’s not some robot, it’s Madame Hydra, and none of this makes any sense.”

“Okay, okay,” Bobbi murmured soothingly, reaching over to stroke May’s hair sympathetically, “Okay. It’s alright. I know you’re confused about everything right now.”

May laughed humourlessly at that, “That’s an understatement.”

“There’s just one more thing,” Morse told her gently, “I… I saw the recording of your conversation with Fitz.”

Damn it.

“Yeah, what about it?” May asked innocently, “I don’t know why he’s such an asshole to everyone, if that’s what you want to know. He’s always been like that.”

“You asked him if his father had ever taught him ‘ _never to show the enemy your hand’_ ,” Morse seemed to remember it was an interrogation then, and stood up from her protective position over May, “what did you mean by that?”

“Mostly that Alistair Fitz an idiot, and so is his son,” May snorted, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair with a small smile, “Is he S.H.I.E.L.D. here too? The rest of Hydra seems to be.”

“So, who’s your enemy, Agent May?” Bobbi asked slowly, watching her carefully. May shrugged, because _you never show the enemy your hand_. What was she supposed to say? That she didn’t remember? The subversives? The robots? Inhumans? Oh, yes. Yes, Inhumans. That would work.

“Look, I know they’re supposed to be good here,” May said quietly, glancing over at the one-way mirror and leaning towards Morse conspiratorially, “But one inhuman _killed_ over 200 kids in my world. _Children_. How am I supposed to forget that?”

Morse seemed to buy that, sitting back down on the desk, “You think Daisy and YoYo might be dangerous?”

“Well, I don’t _know_ them anymore, not really,” May said with a tired sigh, “I… I remember parts of them. I remember that I liked them. But I… I think I might also remember that they’re dangerous too.”

Morse hesitated, and May knew she’d regained the upper hand.

“Do you think that they could hurt someone?” May asked, biting her lower lip, looking up at Morse with fearful desperation. She could almost hear her mother in her ear, telling her to play to her strengths. You're small, so be smaller. Let your enemy think they're in control and you're the furthest thing from a threat. 

Morse shook her head quickly, “No, no. I mean, they are capable being dangerous, but I don’t believe that they would harm anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

“Well. I don’t know _why_ I trust you, but I guess I do,” May lied with a roll of her eyes. Morse smiled at that.

“Well, for whatever reason, I’m glad you do,” Morse offered with a laugh, standing up again and offering May her hand. May accepted it with a grateful smile, and stood up.

“Was that everything then?” May asked, “I don’t know if I know anything else to give you.”

“You’re fine,” Morse assured her, “just try to be a little more careful. The lab can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” May said wryly, “Though, I’ve had little luck with anything else.”

Morse made some comforting noise, and lead her from the room. May tried not to look at her pityingly. It really was too easy. As soon as she’d thought it, she was instantly proven wrong: Morse opened the door to reveal Phil standing in the hallway, arms folded and frowning. Both women blinked at him in surprise and did their best not to look too guilty.

Morse grimaced, “Hey, Coulson.”

“Hey, Bobbi,” he replied coldly, “What _exactly_ are you doing?”

“Just talking with May,” Morse replied, with a casual shrug, “What are you doing?”

“Wondering why you needed to talk in an interrogation room,” Phil retorted.

“It’s fine, Phil,” May said, because she just wanted this whole incident to end, “It was just a... misunderstanding.”

“Right,” Morse agreed instantly, “Everything’s alright now.”

“Sure,” Phil said, but didn’t sound like he believed either of them.

Morse clapped May on the shoulder with a fond smile, “I missed you too, May. I’ll see you around.”

“I am glad you’re back,” May lied, “ _Whoever you are_.”

“Agent Barbara Morse,” Morse offered, “But you can call me Bobbi.”

“Bobbi,” May offered her a shaky half-smile, “I’ll try to remember that.”

Phil put his arm around May with a tight smile, “Come on. You’ve had a long, exhausting day. It’s probably time for bed, I think.”

She nodded, for lack of anything better to do, “Lead the way. Goodnight, Bobbi.”

 

~*~

 

Phil kept his hand protectively on the small of her back for the whole walk back to their rooms. There was something familiar about it that she couldn’t quite place, something warm and comforting. But now, instead of being pleased by the old pieces of the Other May slipping through, it terrified her. What if there was something broken inside her brain too, letting these feelings slip out from wherever they had been buried? When they arrived back at their rooms, Phil stood outside with her for a moment, hand still on her back, both waiting for the other to speak.

“I guess you should get some rest,” he said finally.

“I guess so,” May agreed, unsure of what he expected her to say.

“Melinda…” he started, then shook his head, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she replied, still watching him carefully. He looked at her mournfully, with those bright blue eyes piercing into her soul, then leant forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace. She stood there stiffly for a second, then felt something shift inside her, something from the Other May.

 _“Phil,”_ she breathed, but this time it meant something: this time, it meant _everything_. She wrapped her arms around him, breathing in his scent, and remembering the feeling of that too. She’d done this before. She’d held him like this, like they were the only two people left in the world, and she’d wanted never to let go.

“Phil,” she whispered, clinging to him a little tighter, “Phil, I think I did something terrible.”

“Oh yeah?” he murmured, and leant back to press his forehead to hers, “Well, why don’t we start with why you were lying to Bobbi?”

Damn it.

~*~


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May and Phil have a long overdue talk.

“So?” he prompted her, “ _Are_ you going to tell me why you were lying to Bobbi?”

She winced, “You picked up on that?”

He raised an eyebrow, “You think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

“I was _hoping_ you couldn’t,” she replied, “then again, you’re the only person here who seemed to have really known the Other May, so perhaps I should have expected it.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, “but you don’t know me, so I should tell you that I’m not going to leave you alone until I get an answer.”

May sighed, stepping back from him. Phil folded his arms, looking at her expectantly.

“Well,” she frowned, unlocking her door, “I suppose you might as well come in.”

“I suppose,” he agreed. He stayed close to her, as if he could tell she was contemplating just slamming the door in his face, and sat down on her bed. She closed the door behind them and sighed again. She didn’t know what was worse: that the other May had no friends or that she had one very good friend.

“Still waiting, by the way,” Phil reminded her.

“Was I lying?” May tried, “When, exactly?”

“Oh, just that one last part, I didn’t catch the whole interrogation of you _manipulating_ Bobbi into thinking you were some broken, innocent angel and letting you go,” Phil said sarcastically, "What do you think?"

“I’m going to take that to mean you saw the whole thing,” May retorted, “What, are you _stalking_ me?”

“I knew something was up with you when I didn’t hear you come back to your room after dinner. I saw Simmons running around, and she said you went to the lab to see her, which is ridiculous because the last time you were there was for a medical examination and you hate those,” Phil shrugged, “Agent Wright said you were being weird and Bobbi took you away. And I know Bobbi, so it didn’t take long to find you.”

May sighed. Well, it looked like she was just as stupid and predictable as the rest of them, she just didn’t know _they_ knew it.

“Well, so what?” May countered, leaning back against the wall as she folded her arms defensively across her chest, “What makes you think me ' _acting_ _weird_ ' isn’t just me being a different person?”

“I know you, Melinda,” he reminded her, “even if you don’t know me. Even if I don’t know _all_ of who you are now, there’s still enough Melinda May in you that I can tell when you’re lying.”

“I’ve always been a good liar,” she protested.

“Really? That’s what you want to argue right now?” Phil retorted, then sighed and shook his head, “You might think that you’re a completely different person, but you’re more similar than you are different.”

May hummed to herself thoughtfully, not quite sure whether to believe him or not.

“For how long?” she asked instead.

Coulson snorted, knowing exactly what she meant, “Since you said you weren’t thinking of letting Fitz out. I thought you were thinking of it when we found you, but I hoped I was wrong. You _were_ thinking of letting him out. We both know you were.”

“ _I_ don’t _know_ that,” May protested, “I also thought about killing him.”

“Sure... but you also thought about letting him out,” Phil replied calmly, “I’ve seen you freeze up when you’re confused, and it doesn’t look like that. That wasn’t confusion. That’s how you look when you’re doubting orders. They’re two distinct looks.”

“Two distinct looks,” May scoffed, “he told me to let him out, how do you know I wasn’t doubting that order?”

“I hoped that was what it was,” he admitted, “but it wasn’t. You were still deciding whether or not you _wanted_ to let him out. Why? What could you possibly have to gain from releasing him?”

“Did you see the footage from Vault D?” May asked.

“Not yet,” Coulson replied slowly, “You want to tell me what I’m going to see?”

“ _No_ ,” May retorted sullenly, “But do I have a choice?”

“ _No_ ,” Phil retorted, perfectly matching her tone, “I’m going to watch it anyway. Do you want me to tell Daisy and Simmons not to watch it? What happened?”

May sighed, “I don’t know. Should I care if they know? What do I think of them?”

“What _happened_?” Phil repeated.

May shook her head, “I wasn’t trying to _find_ him or anything. I didn’t know where the vault was. I don’t even know why I went down there!”

“But you did. And then what?” he prompted her, clearly knowing her deflection tactics too well to be fooled by that.

“And then he called me a traitorous bitch, and I called him an idiot for getting locked up,” May paused, looking up at Phil wide-eyed, “But… but I didn’t mean it like _that._ ”

“You didn’t mean it like…” Phil trailed off, waiting for her explanation. 

“I didn’t mean it, like... like I was making fun of him for being locked up because I’m just like him, some twisted psychopath who wants to take down S.H.I.E.L.D.,” May paused, taking a deep breath, “I was loyal to Hydra for the same reason I was loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D.: to protect people. Not because I wanted to rule the world, or whatever their mission statement was… but I was still loyal to Hydra.”

Phil nodded, “I know.”

“They never brainwashed me,” May told him, watching carefully for his reaction, “at least, he said they never did, and I don’t remember ever having anything done to me. Which, I know, makes it sound like they did, but I’m sure they didn't.”

“You’re not sure,” he said quietly, “You’re not sure, and it scares you. But for now, let’s assume they didn’t.”

“You don’t care that I was Hydra?” May prompted him, “you hate Hydra. You hate people like Garrett and me. I knowingly and willingly joined Hydra, and I stayed for _years_.”

“I know. And I know you want me to hate you because it’ll make it easier for you to hate me, but I don’t,” Phil told her, “I can’t hate you. Not after all we’ve been through. I could never hate you.”

“You _should_ ,” May argued, “if you had any sense, you _would_ , just like _everyone_ else.”

“Fortunately for both of us, I don’t,” Phil replied calmly, refusing to take the bait, “You were saying?”

“I was saying I’m Hydra,” May said, then winced, “I _was_ Hydra. I didn’t mean it like that. I-”

“That’s okay,” Phil waved a hand dismissively, “You were saying you called Fitz an idiot for getting locked up. Why?”

May shrugged, turning away from him, and starting to pace the room, “I don’t know. Because he always says that sort of thing to me? He’s an asshole, and I wanted to piss him off. That’s all there is to it.”

Phil frowned, “What did he do to you to make you so scared?”

“I’m not scared,” May snapped, with enough ferocity in her voice to make a lesser man flee, but Phil didn’t even flinch. He just looked at her knowingly and waited.

She shook her head, “I’m _not_. It’s… it’s not what he did to me. It’s what I’ve seen him do to anyone he decides needs _adjusting_.”

Phil seemed surprised, “You’re scared of _Fitz?”_

“I’m not _scared_ ,” May repeated irritably, “I’m just _aware_ of him. Aware of what the Doctor is _really_ like. Not this precious Fitz you all seem to think he is.”

“You always liked him,” Phil told her, “Fitz.”

“Did I?” May sighed, “What was there to like about him?”

“He was still practically a kid when you first met him. FitzSimmons were a few months out of the academy when I recruited them. A few weeks later, they started a started a prank war, with Daisy, I think,” Phil chuckled to himself at the memory, and May’s heart ached that she couldn't reminisce with him, “back when we were all on the Bus together. It was with the old S.H.I.E.L.D.; we were running some simple ops, calling our own shots, no red tape.”

“I always wanted to do that,” May remarked, almost smiling at the thought.

“I know,” Phil said fondly, “I know you did. That’s why I did too. When Fury called me about setting up a team, all I could think of was you. I guess I should have known then, but I didn’t think.”

“Known what?” May asked.

Phil smiled, “That it was your idea. Anyway, Fitz and Simmons are pulling these silly little pranks on everyone- well, mostly Daisy, I think, because she was new then. One night, you’re on the stick and Daisy, Ward, Simmons, and I are playing Scrabble. Then, Fitz walks in, face covered in shaving cream. Apparently, _someone_ snuck into his bunk and put it on his hand while he was sleeping, but he never did catch the culprit.”

May chuckled, “Timeless classic.”

Phil looked up at her with a sad smile, “I never told you that, that I knew it was you. It was the first time after Bahrain that I’d seen that side of you, and I almost didn’t believe it. But it had to be. There was no one else that it could have been, except for you. And it was such a _Melinda_ thing to do… those silly, harmless pranks were always your speciality. That’s how I knew that I’d done the right thing, pulling you out of retirement. That’s how I knew everything was going to be alright. That _we_ were going to be alright.”

May bit her lower lip, and turned her gaze to the floor, “I don’t remember that. I don’t remember _any_ of it or any of _them_.”

“You will,” he shrugged, always so calm.

“He said you had holes in your brain,” May said suddenly, realising how stupid it sounded aloud, “It’s dumb but… the Doctor said _that’s_ why you remember, and Mack and I don’t.”

Phil was silent for a long moment, then sighed, “Well, he’s right.”

May blinked up at him, alarmed, “He’s _what_?”

“He’s _right_ ,” Phil repeated, “Not literally, or at least, I don’t think so. But there are holes in my brain, in a sense. And that is why… why I could remember in the Framework, and why I can remember now. My memory has been erased and rewritten too many times, I guess.”

“Erased and rewritten?” May echoed, coming to sit down beside him, “Phil… what the _hell_ happened to you?”

He considered that for a moment, then unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a deep and ugly scar hidden beneath. Paled with age, it still stood out as a stark contrast to the rest of him, lying right above his heart. May gasped in spite of herself, staring at it in morbid fascination. She’d seen this before. She’d seen this before, and it had terrified her then too.

“May I…?” she asked. He nodded. She ran her fingers across the scarred skin, every raised line etched in his skin looking painfully familiar. There was flashes of something else in the back of her mind: of blood and gaping open wounds, of mutilated flesh messily stitched back together, of a fresh and red angry scar that still sent her blood running cold. He had _died_. She blinked back tears, because she had no right to cry over something she didn’t remember, the death of someone she didn’t know, but it still _hurt_.

“It’s okay,” he cupped her face in his hands, stroking her cheek with his thumb, “Shh. It’s okay. I’m back. Don’t cry for me. I came back.”

She took a deep breath to steady her voice, “What _happened_ to you?”

“I was stabbed through the heart,” he said, as if it were that simple, “There was a whole thing, with aliens and gods and monsters. It’s a long, _long_ story, for another time. But, I was stabbed trying to save someone, and I died. It wasn’t just for few _seconds_ or a few _minutes.._. it was for a few _days_. I still don’t know how long, exactly. But Director Fury brought me back, um… using alien biology mixed with some super drug. I don’t know. I don’t think anyone knows the specifics of it anymore. But I came back, and went mad, and had my brain erased and implanted with false memories of recovering in Tahiti. I didn’t know what was true for a very long time. And now, because my brain was already full of false memories and gaps, I guess AIDA couldn’t rewrite it as well as she could for you and Mack. Lucky me, I guess.”

May nodded to herself and took a moment to let that all sink in, feeling the pulse of his steady heartbeat below her palm. He had come back from the dead. Not like she had done, when her heart had missed a few beats and her brain had stopped thinking for few moments. He had _died_.

“You shouldn’t be here,” May whispered shakily, “We… we shouldn’t have… what did we do? What did _I_ do?”

“You did what you thought needed to be done,” Phi told her firmly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Fury asked you to keep an eye on me, and you didn’t question the how. I didn’t understand it then, but now I do. You wanted to keep me safe, no matter the personal cost.”

“What happened to her?” May asked, “When you died? Did she know you were dead? How… how did I even find out you were alive again?”

“You never said,” Phil said simply, folding his hands in his lap. 

May scoffed at that, “She _never said_. No, of course she didn’t.”

“Hey, you’re not exactly _forthcoming_ either,” Phil retorted. May rolled her eyes but didn’t reply. Perhaps she and the Other May weren’t that different after all.

“Look,” he tried, “I _wanted_ to know. Ever since I found out what actually happened to me. But it was never the right time to ask you.”

May snorted and gave him a sour look, “and now you may never know.”

He sighed, staring down at his hands, “No. I guess not.”

They sat in silence for a while, May’s hand still resting on top of his heart. Her heart ached with every steady beat of his, and she shook her head. 

“What if I don’t like who I become?” May asked suddenly, “What if she’s a bad person? What if she’s… what if _I_ become so different I’m no longer _me_ anymore?”

Phil was silent for a moment, then brought his real hand up to rest on top of hers, intertwining their fingers.

“Well, that’s happened before,” he finally said, “You changed. And you didn’t like who you became. So, you kept changing, until you did. No matter who you become, May, you’ll still be a good person. I don’t believe there is any version of you that isn’t good.”

May sighed, “I don’t think there is any version of me that _is_.”

“You're wrong,” he told her firmly.

“Do you love her?” May asked, even though she was almost certain she knew the answer. She just needed to hear him say it.

He hesitated, took a deep breath, then nodded, “Yes. _Yes_ , I love you, or I love her, however you want to say it. And I never got to tell you that as much as I wanted to tell you, but I’m saying it now. I love you, Melinda May. Even if you don’t understand why anymore. Even though you don’t love me back anymore. I _love_ you.”

She nodded, shifting away from him a little on the bed and folding her hands neatly in her lap, “I suspected as much.”

He didn’t seem surprised that she didn’t say it back and just nodded again, frowning at the floor.

“Tomorrow, we’re going to Virginia,” Phil told her matter-of-factly, standing up and starting to button up his shirt.

“Virginia?” May repeated blankly, “What for?”

“I made some calls like I said I would,” Phil reminded her, “you’ve got a storage locker there apparently. That’s where you put all your stuff after you moved out of your apartment to come on the Bus with me. That’s where all your things are.”

“All my things,” May echoed, “You… you found them?”

“I think so,” he shrugged, “but we won’t know until we get there. So, I guess you’re going home.”

May smiled at that, and wrapped her arms around herself, “I’m going _home_.”

He smiled back, and kissed her forehead, “Yes. You’re going home.”

He looked as though he was about to leave for a moment and then paused, “But don’t think I’ve forgotten about whatever _terrible thing_ that you did. You want to tell me what it was, or should I wait for that to blow up?”

“Lying to Bobbi?” she tried.

“Really?” he rolled her eyes, “Didn’t we just establish I know when you’re lying?”

May sighed and reached into her pocket, taking out the memory chip she’d taken. Phil's eyes widened in alarm. 

“Damn it, Melinda,” Phil sighed, running a hand through his sparse hair, “You’re stealing from the lab now? Seriously?”

“They’re my memories,” May snapped, “I have a right to them!”

“Your memories,” Phil repeated, and sighed again, “Yes. Yes, I’m sure you do. They are _yours_ , and no one can take that right away from you. But these people are trying to help you-”

“They’re trying to _erase_ me!” May cut him off, and Phil flinched.

She paused, tilting her head to the side curiously, “What does that mean? What’s that from?”

“It’s… nothing,” Phil lied, shaking his head.

“I can tell when you’re lying too, you know,” May informed him, “I just don’t know _why_ I can tell.”

He smirked for a moment, and then sighed, “That’s what I was scared of. Being _erased_. One of the earlier Tahiti patients had said it before we wiped away his memories. _‘Don’t erase me, Coulson!’_ I still have nightmares about it sometimes. I don’t know how you’d know about that.”

May shrugged, a little helplessly, because she didn’t know where it had come from either.

“Give them to me, May,” Phil told her sternly, and reluctantly she handed them over. 

“I'll... I’ll take it back,” he promised, “no one will know. And I’ll tell Daisy and Simmons to avoid the footage, at least until we get back. I don’t know; I’ll say it’s too distressing, or something.”

“Are you still going to watch it?” May asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“I trust you,” he said simply, “but I don’t trust him. Not this version of him, at least.”

May snorted, “You _must_ love her.”

“I do,” Phil said fiercely, “I love every part of her and every version of her. Even you.”

May softened a little at that, then shook her head, “You’re an idiot.”

“You say that a lot,” he replied, “But even now, you don’t really mean it.”

May didn’t have a response to that, “Goodnight, Phil.”

He smiled wryly, “Goodnight, Melinda. Try to get some rest… and avoid _wandering_ off again. I’ll see you early tomorrow morning.”

May nodded, and he leant over to kiss her forehead before he left. She dug through the Other May’s things until she found some pyjamas (Captain America? Seriously? Why did she like some old war hero here?), and got into bed, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling. There was a water stain that looked like a fish if she squinted just right, and she wondered what the Other May had thought of it. How funny, that the only personality in the room wasn’t made by the person who lived there. She waited until she could hear Phil’s door buzz open, and curled up on her side, listening to him puttering around his room getting ready for bed. She couldn’t remember ever hearing that before, but it was comfortingly familiar to know that he was home and safe. They were both here, alive at least, and even if she didn’t remember him, it was nice to know she had a friend.

 

~*~


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil, May, and Lola go on a road trip.

May woke to Phil’s hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her awake.

“Phil, go back to sleep,” she mumbled back, pressing her face into the pillow, “it’s too early.”

“We gotta get going, May,” he whispered, lighting brushing her hair back from her face, “Come on, time to get up.”

May grumbled to herself, and squinted up at him tiredly.

“I… you…” she wrinkled her nose and yawned, “how… how did I know that was you?”

Phil smiled softly, “Your subconscious must remember how often I’ve had to wake you up.”

May groaned, sitting up and running her fingers through her hair, “What time is it?”

“It’s almost six,” he told her gently, “I want to get on the road before the rest of the base wakes up and wants to tag along, okay?”

“How are we getting there?” May asked, rubbing her eyes.

Phil shrugged, “I thought we’d take Lola.”

“Who’s Lola?” May frowned.

Phil smiled, “You’ll see. Go on, get ready.”

 

~*~

 

Lola turned out to be a beautiful, vintage, cherry red Corvette. May curled up in the passenger seat, dozing in and out of sleep, with one of Phil’s heavy coats draped over her. In those hazy moments between asleep and awake, everything felt perfectly normal. As the first weak rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, the reality of the situation came crashing down on her again, and the warmth in her chest turned to fear. She tried her best to shake it off, to tell herself that even without her memories she knew that this world was real and this stranger was her friend, but it didn’t help much. Even with the few fleeting emotions that had managed to break through from her subconscious, she was still herself. Reckless and impulsive, maybe, but not stupid. 

“Eyes on the road,” May mumbled, her own eyes still closed, as she felt Coulson’s gaze linger on her for a little too long.

Phil chuckled to himself, “Sorry. It’s been a while since we’ve done something so… normal.”

May hummed thoughtfully to herself, “It’s been a while since I _felt_ so normal. Now my head just hurts.”

“Sorry,” Phil apologised, though May wasn’t sure why, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I think it’s more the sun,” May yawned, stretching a little, and pulled the coat a little tighter around her, “what time is it?”

“It is,” Phil paused, “ten minutes past seven. There’s still about an hour to go, but we’re almost at Kent Island. We should probably stop for breakfast soon. Are you hungry?”

May pulled a face, “ _No_.”

“Me neither,” Phil agreed, “But I promised Simmons and Daisy we’d be careful and eat regularly.”

“You had to promise them?” May snorted, “What are they, our parents?”

“I think it’s the other way around,” Phil chuckled. May snorted, but wondered if he was right. Even the Doctor was significantly younger than her, and so were both the girls. Had she and Phil been mentors to them, back of “the Bus”? Perhaps that was why they all claimed to be so close to her, without knowing anything about her. She was a maternal figure, not a friend. Someone loved, but not quite an equal.

She finally opened her eyes, and blinked sleepily at Phil. He was staring ahead at the road behind dark sunglasses, expressionless except for the small smile on his lips. In spite of her frustration at her failing mind and her confusion about everything in this strange new world, being in the middle of nowhere with this almost perfect stranger was the most at peace she’d felt since waking up in the Real World. With only the sound of Elvis softly crooning about love on the stereo and the sunlight warming her hair, the whole world seemed to be at rest. 

“Mm,” May sighed contently, “I love this song.”

“O’Brien,” Phil remarked.

May scoffed at that, shaking her head, “No way. I know my Elvis.”

“Sure, that’s _your_ Elvis. But O’Brien made the mixtapes,” Phil explained.

“Oh right. You said his name before,” May remarked, and tried to remember, “he made me mixtapes. Was he the O’Brien that was in Bahrain in this world?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t in yours?” Phil asked.

May shook her head, “No. I had a different team entirely.”

Coulson nodded to himself, but didn’t press her for any more details. He had been in Bahrain in this world because they were partners, she knew that much from the report. And he knew that Garrett had been her partner in the other world, so he must have at least suspected that Garrett had taken his place there too. As much as he seemed to hate Garrett, he seemed content to respect her feelings about him for now. She supposed there was no point in trying to explain Garrett to him again, and they fell into an uneasy silence for a few moments.

“What happened to him?” she asked, although she was almost certain she already knew the answer, “I haven’t seen an O’Brien around the base. Should I assume…?”

“He’s… he’s alive,” Phil said finally, “He just doesn’t work at S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore. He… Radcliffe developed some formula to turn humans into a sort of primitive inhuman, under the control of this psychopathic inhuman cult leader. There was an attack on our base, and O’Brien was swayed. He… he’s not under Hive’s control anymore, but there’s still no cure for what Radcliffe did to him. The team of doctors could undo most of the aesthetic damage to his face, but he’s still mostly blind and understands very little of what’s going on around him. He’s in a medical facility not far from the Playground, under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s protection. You still visit him sometimes, maybe once or twice a week from what you’ve told me. You bring him mixtapes now. But… it’s been a while. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” May echoed, staring out at the road, “Do you think he misses me? Would I miss him?”

Phil considered that for a moment, “I think so. I haven’t seen him as often as you, because I’ve spent the last six months on the Zephyr, but from what I’ve seen he’s very attached to you. He doesn’t know much, but he knows you. How he recognises you, I don’t know, but he knows you and knows your name, and is excited to see you. I think 'May' was one of the first words he learnt. And I know you’d miss him. He’s a good friend, and has been for some 15 years. You’d miss him. I don’t think you ever really forgave Radcliffe for what he did.”

May snorted, “and I was right to! Look at what has happened since!”

Phil just chuckled to himself, looking over at her for a moment with a smile. May offered him a small smile back, and settled back in her seat as he turned his attention back to the empty highway. So, the Other May went to visit O’Brien at least once a week, to bring him mixtapes, like he had done for her after Bahrain. She tried to picture it, putting together little tapes for her friend, who probably didn’t even understand what she was doing for him, much less why. Did they like the same music? They must, she decided, or at least they must both love Elvis. What had O’Brien thought, these last few weeks? Had he realised she stopped coming? Had he waited for her in vain, for weeks and weeks, not realising that she might not be coming back? Had her replacement gone to visit him? Would he have even known the difference? Would he know the difference between them now? She sighed exasperatedly, folding her arms with a frown. God, was there anything that Radcliffe _hadn’t_ ruined in her life?

“Phil,” May said slowly, “this inhuman formula Radcliffe developed… is that the same thing that killed me?”

“Killed you? No, no,” he assured her, “No, the thing that killed you was… um, well, a ghost, I guess? Kind of.”

May blinked at him, “I was killed by a _ghost_? Simmons said I was _sick_.”

“You were sick,” Phil agreed, “You were very sick. The ghost made you think that the people around you were possessed by some demonic virus, but in reality, you were the one that had been infected. You… you were very brave and sweet about the whole thing, trying to protect us like you always do. Simmons had to stop your heart to save you, and almost couldn’t bring you back. She was pretty shaken about the whole thing.”

“Was I?” May asked, because he was the only one who might know, “shaken?”

He hesitated, “Not on the surface. I don’t think you’d processed what had happened to you. I don’t think you _wanted_ to.”

May nodded thoughtfully, “But… below the surface?”

“I think you were,” Phil replied, “I think it scared you a lot more than you were prepared to be scared. So, I was waiting until you were ready to talk about it.”

“Which was never,” May sighed.

“Which was not yet,” Phil corrected her. May rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Maybe someday she would. Maybe someday she would remember believing some demonic virus infected her friends. Maybe someday she would remember her death. Maybe someday, but not today.

“Come on. Let’s get something to eat,” Phil said, finally breaking the silence, “I’ll feel better after some more coffee.”

May pulled a face, “I hate coffee.”

Phil smirked, “believe me, I _know_.”

~*~

 

They stopped off at a little café overlooking the Chester River. It was the quaint sort of thing that something in the back of May’s mind told her Phil liked, with framed vintage advertisements on the walls hiding faded wallpaper and fresh flowers on every table. They sat down next to a huge window overlooking the water, and May stared out at the river, mesmerised. In her world, all the waters in all the world were the same bright, beautiful blue. Here, it was more grey than blue, with just a hint of green, and a glimmer of gold where the reflection of the rising sun hit the water. If she looked closely, she could see tiny little ripples breaking the surface and the spray of white foam as a red and white ferry slowly puttered across the water. She could feel Phil’s eyes resting on her, but couldn’t look away. Everything was so vividly coloured, with so many minute details, it didn’t quite seem real. Even the sun was so much warmer in this world, she mused. Everything was so much warmer.

“We’re going to need a few more minutes,” Phil said, jerking her out of her thoughts. She glanced over at him to find that he wasn’t talking to her, but rather a young waitress who’d appeared at the table.

“Sure thing,” the waitress agreed, “Let me know when you’re ready.”

Phil nodded and turned his attention back to May.

“I ordered you a green tea,” he offered, “I hope you still like that.”

“I do,” she nodded, “thank you. The view here is… _incredible_.”

“It is,” he agreed, but kept his gaze focused on her. She glanced down at the menu in front of her. She had never been much of a breakfast person, even when she was feeling hungry. Now, the thought of having to eat a whole meal was intimidating.

“What are you getting?” she tried.

He hesitated, then turned his attention back to his menu, “That’s a good question.”

She chuckled to herself, shaking her head, “do we do this often?”

“What, breakfast?” Phil asked absentmindedly, “No, I don’t think you _do_ breakfast.”

May smiled in spite of herself, “No, I don’t. I can’t remember the last time I sat down to eat breakfast. Sometimes before work, Garrett, Sitwell and I- you know Jasper Sitwell here?”

“Sure,” Phil agreed, “Knew him for years.”

“Me too. Anyway, we would skip out on morning meetings with the Doctor whenever we could,” May shook her head, “God, Sitwell hated him. Thought he was the biggest asshole in Hydra, and that’s saying something because you have to be awful to get anywhere in there.”

“Huh,” Phil seemed surprised, “he did? Sitwell said that?”

“Oh, sure. He didn’t argue back, all smiles to everyone’s faces, but once they were gone… he did the best impression of the Doctor. Only behind closed doors though. No use getting yourself killed over a joke,” May smiled to herself, letting a thoughtful silence fall over the table.

“So, he was alive there? In the Framework?” Phil asked politely.

May’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach, “he’s not here?”

“Oh. _Oh_ , May, I’m so sorry,” Phil reached across the to take her hand in his own, “No, I’m afraid not. He passed away a few years back.”

May stared down at the table, and shook her head, “Oh, Jasper. I… what happened? Do we know?”

Phil paused, biting his lower lip, “Um. We know. You see… well…. he was killed during the Hydra takeover. He… look, the official report says Natasha Romanoff threw him off a bridge, but she denies it.”

“Denies it, like she denies he was thrown off a bridge, or denies it, like she denies she was the one who did it?” May asked, focusing every fibre of her being into not thinking of sweet Jasper Sitwell being violently hurled from a bridge and plummeting to a grisly death. She’d seen him scared before, seen the panic in his eyes as he thought death was imminent, and refused to think of it again. He was a good man and a good friend, and now he was gone. That was already too much to bear.

“That she did it,” Phil replied, then seemed to notice something off in her expression, and squeezed her hand again, “I’m sorry. You two were pretty close in this world too; it kind of messed you up to think of him that way. We’d all worked together for decades. He… he was a great guy before Hydra.”

“We were still friends here?” May asked, “Good friends?”

Phil nodded, “we were. I like to think he was our friend first, before Hydra. You used to say that you didn’t know what was worse, that he had always been Hydra and was only ever pretending to be our friend, or that he was our friend and still joined Hydra in spite of that. You didn’t like to think about it. You were very fond of him.”

May nodded, “I… I was.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil said again, a little helplessly.

“It’s not your fault. That’s just… the nature of our work, this happens all the time,” she said, trying to make herself believe that it was fine.

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” Phil replied, “death is one of those things that experience doesn’t make any easier.”

May nodded in agreement, and Phil ran his thumb along the back of her hand, squeezing it again tightly. Jasper Sitwell was dead. He’d been her friend across two different universes, and now she’d never see him again. She tried to remember why he’d joined Hydra in the first place, but couldn’t remember. Maybe she’d never asked. It hadn’t seemed to have mattered much in her world.

“So, Natasha Romanoff?” May asked, because she thought he might receive her name better, “another friend of ours?”

Phil smiled at that, “Yeah, she’s a close friend. Great agent. You love her like a little sister… tease her like one too. Was she Hydra, in your world?”

May shrugged, “we never met.”

That in itself seemed sadder. They’d never even met. They might have seen each other, crossed paths in the hallways, sat in the same meetings, but she’d never know. She didn’t even have a face to go off of.

She shook her head in an attempt to banish those thoughts, “Natasha Romanoff. She found me, when I was put on medical leave. Is that right?”

“God, that’s right,” Phil inhaled sharply, “that was… that was terrible.”

“Where is she now?” May asked.

Phil paused, then shrugged, “Nobody knows. She’s… there… do you remember, when we told you about the Avengers?”

“Sure,” May agreed.

“Well, she was on the team,” Phil told her, “and they ran into… some trouble, I guess? It’s a whole complicated thing. They were supposed to sign a document, to say they would only use their powers when a third party called it necessary, which was a whole issue within itself. There was a huge fight about it… but anyway. Romanoff signed, no problem, and then changed her mind. She was expected to turn on her friends, on her team, and she couldn’t. So, now she’s in hiding, of sorts.”

“We can’t help her?” May asked.

“We’re trying to,” Phil assured her, “We don’t know where she is exactly. You’re pretty good at finding people, but she’s pretty good at hiding. You think she knows you’re looking for her, though, which I suppose is good.”

“It is?” May asked, “she doesn’t sound like she wants to be found.”

Phil paused, “I’d like to think that she knows, if she ever runs into too much trouble, she can always come to us. And if she knows you’re out there, looking for her, perhaps she’ll reach out to you.”

May shook her head, “But I’m not out there anymore! I have been for a month. What if she needs us?”

“You trained her well,” Phil assured her, “When she wants to come home, she’ll be able to find her way back. And if something had happened to her… we’d know about it by now.”

May nodded, but still felt uneasy about the whole thing. She had a responsibility to this girl, but she had no idea who she was or where she could be.

“I should be looking for her,” May said, as stupid as it was. She didn’t even know who _she_ was, let alone who Natasha Romanoff was. How could she find someone she knew nothing about?

“What happened to you was not your fault,” Phil told her firmly, “what Radcliffe and AIDA did to you… none of this was your fault. Don’t blame yourself for whatever fallout their actions have.”

May was about to argue back but fell silent as the waitress returned, with black coffee for Phil and green tea for May.

“Here we are,” she said cheerfully, apparently not sensing the tension at the table, “Now, how about some food?”

Phil offered her a tired smile, “Sorry, we’re still going to need a few more minutes.”

 

~*~


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast comes with a confession from Phil, and May finally finds some pieces of the Other May.

The poor waitress did eventually get an order out of them. May picked at her fruit bowl, methodically working her way down from favourite to least favourite fruits as her appetite once again failed to appear. Phil seemed to be faring better than her in that department at least, and looked pleased that he’d finished all of his coffee and almost all of his omelette.

“Here, try some of this,” Phil offered, pushing the plate towards May, “you need all the food you can get.”

“So you do,” May replied, although the others didn’t seem to have been as badly affected by their time in the Framework as her. She did seem more gaunt in this world, which she supposed made sense after the whole “you were a MurderBot’s prisoner for a month” thing, but it wasn’t enough to motivate her to force herself to eat.

“You need the energy,” Phil reminded her, “And I promised-”

“You promised our girls we’d try,” May finished for him, rolling her eyes.

Coulson looked surprised for a moment, then smiled, “yes. I promised _our girls_ we’d try.”

“I’m just so tired all the time,” May sighed, “how am I supposed to feel like _me_ when I barely have the energy to move?”

Phil sighed, “May, you were in a coma for-”

“A month, yeah, yeah,” May finished for him, “so I keep hearing.”

Phil grimaced, “you’re home now. That’s what matters. We can fix all the rest from here, in time.”

“At least I got home,” May sighed, shaking her head, “The Patriot’s funeral. That’s still on for this weekend?”

“We don’t have to go,” Phil said instantly, “not if you don't want to.”

“Was he a friend?” May asked, “of the Other May’s? Here?”

“Friend is probably a strong word,” Phil winced, “He… was our boss, I guess? It was a weird dynamic. We used to run S.H.I.E.L.D. before it was legitimised, then he was sent in by the President and General Talbot to be the new Director when we went public again. So, he was supposed to be in charge of two people who’d worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. for more than 30 years and who had more experience running things than him. It was a little messy.”

“Ah. Sounds complicated,” May agreed, “was he a good man, at least?”

“We didn’t know each other that well. We didn’t really _want_ to know him,” Phil admitted, “but sure, I guess? From what I knew, he seemed to be trying hard to be a good leader and to keep us all safe. His team seemed to adore him. He’ll be missed, that much I know. It… it was a tragic accident. All the papers and stations are calling him a national hero. I think he would have liked that.”

“I wasn’t a ‘ _tragic accident’_ , Phil,” May shook her head, “he was killed on my orders.”

“Melinda, don’t. Don’t do that to yourself. You didn’t know he would die here too,” Phil reminded her.

“Doesn’t change what I did. I didn’t even know there _was_ a here,” May replied briskly, “As far as I knew, it was all real.”

“You didn’t know,” he repeated, “You thought he was dangerous, and you wanted to keep people safe.”

May shook her head, “I should have been smarter.”

Phil sighed, “You can’t change the past.”

“Isn’t changing the past the only reason I exist?” May remarked bitterly. Phil didn’t have a response to that.

“I’m not even real,” May said quietly, more to herself than to him, “I’m not even _real_.”

He reached over to squeeze her hand tightly, “Yes, you are.”

“Everything that I am came out of a computer program run by a psycho robot,” May said sourly. 

“I mean… not _everything_ ,” Phil offered lamely, “look, everything that happened before Bahrain was real, right? And how you responded to the circumstances that AIDA created was supposed to be real too. So, I suppose in that sense; you’re just as real as anyone. I mean, you’re probably more real than your robot clone, because you’re flesh and bone and I’m still not sure what she was.”

“How was her mind?” May asked, “was she the same as the Other May?”

Phil hesitated, “she... she wasn’t a _perfect_ copy.”

“What was different?” May asked.

Phil paused again, and shrugged, “well, she did pull a gun on me: that’s not something you’d usually do. Radcliffe programmed her to get the book to him at any cost... I guess I turned out to be one of them.”

“Yeah? And what else?” May prompted him, “what don’t you want to tell me?”

“What? Nothing. That’s it, pretty much,” Phil protested.

“No, there’s something else,” May replied firmly, “so, what happened? What’s worse than her pulling a gun on you?”

Phil blinked at her, then seemed to realise that she wasn’t going to let up, “it… it wasn’t something you did. It was me.”

May paused, “ _you_? What did you do?”

“I… May, there… there was one red flag,” he admitted, “But I… overlooked it. I was selfish, and I made the wrong call, and you suffered for it.”

May frowned, “what was it? What happened?”

Phil sighed, and was silent for a long moment, looking out the window. May could almost see the gears in his brain turning, desperately trying to figure out a way to phrase whatever it was he needed to say. What could have been so bad? What could he have done to make him this upset?

“Radcliffe programmed her to get close to me, to get the book,” Phil said finally, “to… made advances on me, which you would never have wanted to do. And I wanted to believe it was real so badly, that it was really _you_ that wanted to be with _me_  as much as I wanted to be with you, that I ignored the fact that you’d never liked me like that and assumed you’d just suddenly had a change of heart... I thought maybe, with everything that had happened, something had changed. And I guess that was true, but not in the way I thought it would be. It was too late when I realised that it wasn’t you at all.”

May stared at him, unsure of how to respond. What did you say to that? She had no idea if he was right or not. _Was_ it his fault? Should he have been able to tell that the robot wasn’t really the Other May? She hadn’t been there; she didn’t know what had happened. All she knew was what he had told her. So, Radcliffe had known that Phil loved her as more than a friend, and created a robot clone to give him exactly what he wanted. It wouldn’t have been hard for anyone to tell: Phil didn’t seem to be making much of an attempt to hide his feelings, at least not with her. Had the Other May known? May desperately willed the pieces of the Other May inside of her to give her something, but came up with nothing. Perhaps it was his fault. Perhaps he was right, and he could have saved her weeks ago and already brought the Other May home before the final Framework program had completely rewritten her mind. And yet, she couldn’t find it in her to blame him for it, as easy as it would have been. It wasn’t his fault, not really. At least, not as far as she could tell.

“May, I’m so sorry,” Phil said, almost tearfully, “about _everything._ Everything that happened to you. I… I didn’t think. I only thought about me, and what _I_ wanted, and I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

“It’s okay,” May told him numbly, because it seemed like the right thing to say, “you didn’t know. How could you have known she had been secretly replaced by a robot programmed to be in love with you? That’s ridiculous.”

“I knew something was off, and I ignored it. It’s my fault,” Phil said softly, “we... we _could_ have saved you sooner if I wasn’t so selfish. Everything that has happened since Radcliffe sent that LMD back to us instead of you, it all happened because I wanted to be with you more than I was prepared to accept the truth. Everything that happened to you, it was my fault.”

“So that’s why you want me to get better so badly,” May frowned, “not because of some imagined debt, but because you think it was your doing.”

“I have to fix this,” he told her firmly, “because it was all my fault. I have to make this right, make _you_ right again.”

“Phil,” May sighed, shaking her head, “what if you _can’t_?”

“I will,” he said fiercely, “I will. I will fix you, Melinda, I swear.”

 

~*~

 

The rest of the ride out to the storage locker was quiet after that. There wasn’t much to say after, for either of them. Phil clearly didn’t want to push her any further, now that he’d said what he needed to say and confessed his real motivation for helping her. May didn’t know enough about the Other May to counter his claims: perhaps the fondness she felt for him _was_ purely platonic. Perhaps she’d only ever seen him as a friend, and only would ever see him as a friend. But as she looked over at him and remembered how it had felt when he held her, she couldn’t help but feel that wasn’t quite true.

She needed a distraction, they both did. O’Brien’s mixtapes further confirmed their identical tastes in music, and Phil seemed content to let her turn up the volume and hum along to the familiar tunes.

“We all like the same music!” May told him, trying to change the topic to something more pleasant.

Phil smiled a little at that, “ _old_ music, yeah.”

“Good music,” May retorted, “you can’t beat the King.”

“No. You can’t beat the classics,” Phil agreed.

“So, tell me about Lola,” May tried, “what use does a secret agent have with such an attention-grabbing car? Seems risky.”

Phil glanced over at her with a grin, “Lola’s worth the risk. Like I said, you can’t beat the classics.”

May nodded, still sure there was something he wasn’t telling her. They settled into silence from there, but it wasn’t as cold as before. Phil kept that small smile on his face for the rest of the drive, and some of the uneasiness in May’s chest subsided. They’d be alright, in time. Even if it did turn out to be his fault she’d lost all her memories.

 

~*~

 

Once they’d found the storage locker’s location, it didn’t take long to locate her locker itself.

“Here we are, 229,” Phil said, indicating to a locked roller door, “this is yours.”

“Do you have a key?” May asked, “because I don’t have a key. I don’t even know what kind of key I’m supposed to have.”

“Don’t worry; I don’t think there ever was a key. You sent Barton to pick up something for you when you were on the Bus, and his wife still had the address and code written down,” Phil told her, “and with any luck, you’ve been too busy these last few years to get around to changing it… there we go!”

The code worked, and the door unlocked with a loud buzz and click. Phil rolled up the door and flicked on the lights. They flickered once, then illuminated a small room, packed with furniture and boxes. May’s heart skipped a beat, and she gripped the front of Phil’s shirt for support. Here they were, here were all her things. Here was everything she’d been missing. All hidden away in carefully labelled boxes, to be kept safe.

“It’s here,” she murmured, “it’s really _here.”_

Phil wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and rest his other hand on hers, “yeah, here it is. Come on.”

He gently led her in, as she examined the room. Everything was neatly sorted and carefully labelled in her handwriting: was this May neat? Or had it just been that she knew she wouldn’t be coming back here for a while? She tried to imagine how the Other May would feel, knowing that the next person to come in here would be a computer program of her trying to figure out her life. She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it.  

There were two boxes sitting on the table, carefully cut open. It was almost entirely full of S.H.I.E.L.D. vests, neatly folded and sealed in plastic wrap, unused. The label on the front was typed below a S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem, stating:

**UNFORM ORDER**

**ITEM/S:              100 STANDARD ISSUE OPERATIONS VESTS (FEMALE)**

**100 STANDARD ISSUE OPERATIONS UNDERSHIRT LONG (FEMALE)**

**AGENT:               MAY, M.Q. (L5)**

**ISSUE DATE:       11-22-99, 0900HRS**

**ISSUE SITE:         THE TRISKELION**

**SIGNATURE REQUIRED ON DELIVERY**

“This was what Barton came for?” May asked, “vests?”

Phil chuckled, “God, I remember that. The Catsuit Resistance.”

“The _Catsuit Resistance_?” May repeated incredulously, “What the hell is a Catsuit Resistance?”

“It was the dumbest thing. Sci-tech designed these high tech catsuits for specialists to use on missions. They were supposed to replace the standard vests for specialists,” Phil explained, “you and Barton were opposed, morally or spiritually or emotionally, whichever you thought would work better. I think objectification was your main concern? Anyway, you both hated them.”

“Sure, catsuits are terrible,” May agreed, “they make you feel so… exposed. Which is the opposite of how you should feel as a secret agent. It’s just plain dangerous to be wearing them.”

“Well, there you go,” Phil nodded, pleased, “see? Not so different after all.”

May decided to ignore that, “and then what happened?”

“Well… okay, so Agent Hill had just started working with our team then, and she was pretty adamant that everyone followed her orders to the letter. You and Barton both filed objections, but she refused to sign off on your non-standard uniform requests. You tried to take it to Fury, but he agreed with her. And Hill was so proud of herself, and said all smugly, ‘at the rate you two get shot at, you’ll be out of vests in a few months, and then I’ll see you both in the suits, like it or not’,” Phil paused to shake his head with a wry smile, “And _that_ was her big mistake. You and Barton ordered new uniforms, in _bulk_ , from every single S.H.I.E.L.D. base you knew about. You’ve both still got _hundreds_ left.”

May laughed at that, and Phil beamed proudly. She could see herself doing that easily, though she couldn’t picture whoever “Barton” was. She could see herself stubbornly refusing the changes, and being so pleased with herself when she outsmarted her superior. She could see herself with Garrett and Sitwell, laughing as they placed the orders, knowing full well that the Doctor and Madame Hydra would be furious as they struggled to figure out what they’d done. Yes, perhaps the Other May and the May who came back weren’t that different after all.

“Ah, jet black. Triskelion,” Phil remarked wisely, lifting one of the vests from the box, “you know, all the uniforms came in slightly different colours, or technically slightly different shades of black, I guess. Barton was particularly attached to the purple tinted ones out of Sandbox. The Nest was slightly blue, which is what you guys normally got. So, every time one of you got shot at or stabbed and lost a vest, then came in the next day _yet another one_ in a slightly different colour. Hill knew you’d done something, she could tell they were brand new uniforms, but she couldn’t figure out what. She kept trying to catch you out for ‘ _violating_ S.H.I.E.L.D.’s uniform policy’ by wearing ‘non-approved workwear’, but there was nothing she could do about it. They all had individual uniform codes that were issued before the catsuits were standardised. God, I wonder if she ever figured it out.”

“Is she still… around?” May asked.

“Oh, sure. She ended up in the private sector after S.H.I.EL.D. fell. Reluctantly, but still,” Phil pulled a face, clearly displeased with her choice, “we actually kind of ended up friends with her in the end. As much as her _bureaucratic ways_ annoyed us, to begin with, she turned out to be pretty cool, a good agent and a good friend. She transferred you to Administration, even though Fury didn’t want you to.”

“He didn’t?” May asked, “But I wasn’t cleared for field work. What else could I have done?”

“The Administration Transfer is a last resort sort of option,” Phil explained, “it’s supposed to be the worst-case scenario, for people who are beyond repair. It’s basically the end of your career. Fury thought that it was too soon to condemn you to a dead-end job. Hill said that it was better you were alive in Administration than dead in Operations. And it was what you wanted, so, she fought for you.”

“She fought for me,” May echoed, wondering what that felt like. The closest she’d come to that was Garrett fighting to keep her in Hydra after the Cambridge Incident. The woman who she’d been at odds with before, had fought to keep her alive, to transfer her somewhere safe, even if it meant she’d never work again. But she had worked again! She wondered if Hill knew that, that May had come back to Operations again. How would she have felt? Would she be happy that May had found her way back into the field? Or would she be scared that Bahrain would happen again?

Phil settled in a beautiful vintage armchair that May vaguely recalled belonging to her grandparents, still watching May carefully, “let me know if you need any help, okay?”

“Okay,” May agreed, tucking her hair behind her ear, “Okay. I’ll keep looking.”

 

~*~

 

An hour later, she was in tears again, but this time it wasn’t from fear or loneliness. She ran a finger along sweet sounding words in handwriting that she only vaguely recognised, telling her how much she was loved, how much she was missed on various missions, and how eagerly Andrew was waiting for her to come home once more.

 

_For all of this life, for all of whatever came before and all of whatever comes after, I’ll always wait for you, and only for you. Come home to me, Melinda. Come home safe._

 

There was a small box full of beautiful, handwritten love letters, along with her wedding ring, a small pile of photographs of Andrew, and a bottle of cologne. She picked up the bottle to smell it, and though she couldn’t remember where she’d smelt it before, she knew she had. She’d loved this, once. Or rather, she’d loved the man who wore it. She glanced over at Phil, who was watching her with a sad smile.

“I loved him,” she told him tearfully, though she was sure he already knew that, “Andrew. I really did love him.”

“You did,” he agreed, “so much more than you ever thought you could love someone. And he loved you back just as much. No matter what happened between you two, you did love each other.”

May nodded, carefully putting the bottle back and closing the box. She hopped up from the table she’d been sitting on, looking over at a beautiful painting that had been carefully wrapped in bubble wrap and leant against a wall. She remembered it well, well enough to identify it even when it was distorted behind the wrapping. A misty mountain, dotted with trees, overlooking a still, clear blue lake. She’d seen it so many times she could remember all the tiny details of the temple on the hill, and the lives she’d dreamed up for the little shadows of people crossing the bridge. She hadn’t seen it in years, not since she’d left home. What had happened to it in her world?

“I used to love that picture,” May told Phil, indicating to it, “my grandmother brought it over from China when she came to live with us. She kept it hanging over her bed and told us stories about back home. I spent hours staring up at it, wondering what it was like there, wondering if I would ever go there too. I’m not sure it’s even a real place, but I liked to think it was. God, I loved it so much. I loved _her_ so much.”

Phil smiled, “I’m sure you did here too.”

“I’m not sure how I inherited it,” May admitted, “out of all my sisters, why would my mom pick me?”

“You could always ask her,” Phil suggested. May blinked at him in surprise, then remembered: her parents were alive in this world. She _could_ just call her mom and ask her, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I could,” May murmured in disbelief, “I could call her, I… wait, I don’t know her number.”

Phil shrugged, “She lives, what, half an hour from here? We could just go see her.”

“We could go see?” May repeated, almost giddy at the prospect, “We could?”

“If you want,” Phil said, standing up, “how long has it been since you saw them? What happened in the Framework?”

“It’s been _years_. They died, both my parents, not long after Hydra came into power. Mama got them both killed, mouthing off to soldiers. It was _stupid_ and _needless_ , and she did it anyway,” May laughed humourlessly, and shook her head, “you know, I always thought my mom couldn’t shut up to save her life. I just never thought it would turn out to be literal. With all the chaos going on, I didn’t even find out for _days._ I didn’t even _know_ they were gone.”

Phil stood up, crossing the tiny room to be beside her in an instant, and took her hands in his, “it’s alright. It was just a computer simulation. It wasn’t really them. They’re both safe here.”

“I never thought I’d see her again,” May explained tearfully, “I never thought I’d see _any_ of this again.”

“But you will. It’ll all be here when we get back,” Phil assured her, “or, your mom will still be there when you’re done here. We can do whatever you want to do.”

May considered that for a moment, but it wasn’t much of choice, “I want to see my mom.”

 

~*~


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in almost ten years, May gets to see her mother. Her mother, on the other hand, is surprised to see her youngest daughter again so soon.

May had driven up the long, winding road to her house a million times before. She knew who all the other houses along her street belonged to, who had grown up there, who had had the best toys to play with. She knew all the landmarks; she knew who’d crashed their cars into what trees and when. She knew every street sign, every letterbox, every fence holding back a barking dog: there had been a time when she’d walked this way almost every morning to get to the bus stop. This had always been her home, in every world she’d been a part of. And yet, she couldn’t remember ever being so excited to drive up this road before.

“Look, see, that’s where the Samberlys live,” May pointed out one of the houses, “ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. or ex-S.S.R., I don’t remember, maybe both. Very old school, very cool. No children, but they used to take care of my siblings and me all the time. That’s where I learnt to ice-skate.”

Phil nodded and smiled, even though he had probably heard about this from the Other May before, “Right, Mr and Mrs Samberly. We’ve met.”

May smiled, “we’re almost there. We’re almost home, just a few more minutes. Do you think my mom will be home?”

Phil shrugged, “I don’t see why not? Then again, I don’t know much of what she does on a daily basis. Just… try not to scare her too much.”

“Scare her?” May repeated.

“Your mother,” Phil explained, “she doesn’t know what happened to you. Any of it.”

May sank back into her seat for a moment, “she has no idea?”

“Not that I know of,” Phil replied, “I imagine hearing her daughter was kept prisoner by an evil robot for a month might be a little shocking for her. You might want to ease her into it.”

“Right,” May agreed as they pulled into the driveway, “probably best not to tell her. I don’t want to finally see her again only to give her a heart attack.”

Phil chuckled, “yeah, probably not.”

May nodded and tried not to let that ruin her good mood. She could see her old house through the trees: a beautiful old farmhouse, because her mother liked houses with “good bones”, whatever that meant. Her parents had painstakingly restored it, and May had spent much of her childhood painting walls and tending to gardens. Her parents had wanted their children to have normal childhoods at least, filled with good memories. She had raced up and down the long driveway with her sisters (always losing, because no matter how big she got she was always the smallest), squealing and laughing as they played on the lawn and her mother watched on from the front porch with a smile in her eyes. She was standing there now, older than May could remember ever seeing her, arms folded and eyes narrowed. It was _her._ She was really here: whole and alive, and waiting for May exactly where she’d last seen her alive. All thoughts of being collected and casual flew from May’s mind, and as Phil stopped the car she was already getting out, half-running the few steps to over to the front porch.

“Mama!” she threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly, “Oh, Mama, look at you! It’s so good to see you!”

“Oh!” her mom exclaimed, but wrapped her arms around May all the same, “Hello, Melinda. Is everything alright?”

 _Right_. Her mother didn’t know about any of it. May stepped backwards awkwardly, running her fingers through her hair and trying (only a few seconds too late) to look casual.

“Sure, Mama,” May assured her, “everything’s fine.”

“Hmm,” was all Mama said, but it was clear she didn’t believe her, “Phillip.”

“Good morning, Ms. Hua,” he said politely, “are you well?”

“I am,” she said slowly, “and what’s wrong with you two? What happened? Why are you here?”

“We came to visit you, Mama,” May told her.

“I can see that,” she agreed, “but _why_?”

“Well… we were doing some work not far from here, and stopped by to say hello,” Phil offered.

“Right,” Mama said finally, still eyeing them suspiciously, “I… I’ll make tea, then.”

With that, she spun on her heels and sauntered back into the house, leaving the front door swinging behind her.

“It’s her,” May whispered breathlessly, turning to Phil, “Phil, it’s my _mom_. She’s _alive_. My mom’s _alive_ , Phil.”

“I know,” he cupped her face in his hands, “I know, but we have to be cool about this, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” May agreed, taking a deep breath, “Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s just… I never thought I’d see her again. And she’s _here,_ and she’s real and whole and breathing and-”

Phil wrapped his arms around her tightly, kissing her cheek, “yes, she is. Everything’s okay. Your mom is alive, and no one is going to take her from you. Hydra can’t hurt her here.”

May nodded, but still clung to him, trying to steady her breathing. Everything was alright now. As strange as it seemed to her, this was simply how it had always been here. Her mother was alive and well, and making them tea. Once she was sure she wouldn’t make any more of a scene, she let him go reluctantly and took a deep breath.

“We should go,” May told him, “before she worries any more about us.”

Phil nodded, “I’ll be right here with you if you need me.”

With that, they went inside.

 

~*~

 

The kitchen was bright and full of natural light, just as she remembered it, and her mom was puttering around as the kettle boiled.

“What kind of tea, Mellie?” her mom asked, carefully taking three teacups down from the cupboard.

“Any kind, Mama,” May replied, leaning against the counter, “how have you been?”

“How have I been? Perfectly well,” Mama replied, “and you? Are you going to tell me why you’re all the way out here?”

“I’m fine, Mama, it’s just work,” Melinda assured her, “we were just nearby.”

“Hmm,” her mom said again, and sighed, “and you, Phillip?”

“I’m very well, ma’am,” Phil replied, “we were pleased to see you were home.”

“Were you? Mellie knows I come back from tai chi at nine,” Mama waved her hand dismissively, and May’s heart warmed. This version of her knew when her mother finished tai chi every morning. Were they close here? Had it been Bahrain, when she’d moved home with a broken heart and shattered mind, that brought them closer together? Perhaps some good had come from that misery after all. She tried to picture it, but remembered it ended with her in a psychiatric care facility. But then, her mother had still visited her there, according to Phil. How had the Other May felt about her mother after that?

“Melinda?”

May blinked up to see her mom and Phil both looking at her expectantly.

“Melinda,” Phil said, giving her a significant look, “are you coming with us, or…?”

“Sure,” May agreed slowly, though she had no idea where to. Her mother muttered something under her breath in Mandarin, shaking her head, and lead them into the living room. May wandered around the familiar room as her mother poured tea, hardly able to believe it was all still here. She’d only come home once since she’d heard about her parents’ untimely deaths and had spent the whole time in tears. Now she had time to examine all the precious ornaments and poorly made children’s crafts, all the perfectly maintained old furniture, and the fresh flowers her mother picked every morning sitting in their vase, all exactly as she remembered it being. Photographs of May and her siblings growing up lined the walls, lovingly documented by their parents. From the cradle to their various weddings to family photographs with their children, although May's wedding wasn’t among them (that’s what she got for eloping, it seemed) and as far as she knew she had no children in any world. There were still a handful of pictures with her and Andrew, though more formal and staged than the ones of them in Maui. One of the pictures showed a very young version of May and Phil ice-skating, only in their late teens or early twenties: May, beaming at the camera, and Phil, a little unsteady on his feet. He wasn’t as used to the ice as her, it seemed.

“Oh, look,” she murmured, more to herself than to him, “there we are.”

“There we are,” Phil agreed, settling on the couch. May stared at the pictures a little while longer, then sat down next to Phil, across from her mother, who was still watching both of them suspiciously. Clearly, they didn’t just drop by unannounced often then. Running out of the car to hug her probably hadn’t helped much either.

“And what work brings you all the way out here then?” Mama asked lightly, sipping her tea.

May hesitated, “Mama, that’s classified.”

“ _That’s classified_ ,” her mother scoffed, rolling her eyes, “I see your agency’s re-legitimised now. You must be pleased with yourselves.”

May glanced over at Phil, who was quick to nod in agreement, “of course, Ms. Hua. It’s been a long time coming and a lot of work... a lot of sacrifices were made… but it seems to have paid off so far. It’s good to be back fighting the good fight.”

Mama rolled her eyes at his earnestness, “and the Nazis have been taken care of? I hear the last of their base of operations has been destroyed.”

“The Na- you mean Hydra?” May frowned, “Mama, they’re not _Nazis_. That was just one small part of Hydra.”

“Of course they’re Nazis,” Mama waved a hand dismissively, “ _One small part_. That’s nonsense. There’s nothing _small_ about Nazis, Melinda.”

“What she means is… uh, well, just that Hydra turned out to be a lot more complicated than originally anticipated,” Phil amended smoothly, “but yes, their final base of operations was taken down, a while back now. I imagine the few survivors probably all been recruited into other terrible, evil organisations, but Hydra itself is gone.”

May tried to keep a neutral face and sipped her tea. Hydra was gone, just like that? They had been a global superpower in her world, an unstoppable force that crushed anything and everything in its wake. They were just… _gone_ here? They’d managed to infiltrate every level of S.H.I.E.L.D. in her world. How could they have possibly been taken down?

“Is Dad well?” May asked, to break the silence. She was certain her parents were still divorced in this world, because that had happened long before Bahrain, but they still had always kept tabs on each other from what she remembered.

“You’d know better that I would,” her mom snorted, “but last I spoke to him, he was. He asked about you, said he hadn’t heard from you in a few weeks. Is everything okay between you two?”

“Sure, Mama,” May agreed instantly, even though she wasn’t sure if everything was okay, “things have just been… busy, at work. Legitimising. I’ll call him again soon, I promise.”

“Good. You know how he worries for you,” Mama replied, “so, S.H.I.E.L.D. is back... is Maria coming back then, to work with you? The only one of you with enough sense to leave… you know, she _also_ called a few days ago, asking about you.”

“She did?” May asked, wondering who on earth _‘Maria’_ was, “what for?”

“She wouldn’t say exactly what,” Mama shrugged, and though she kept her expression perfectly neutral, her eyes were troubled, “she just wanted to know when I’d last heard from you. It seemed urgent, but you’d only called a few days ago so I hadn’t any reason to worry for you, not until she called at least.”

“No, Mama, there’s nothing to worry about,” May assured her, even though there were plenty of reasons, “things have just been really busy.”

“We’ve been off the grid for the past few weeks,” Phil offered, “something came up unexpectedly. I imagine that’s what Hill was calling about.”

Ah. Maria and Agent Hill must be the same person, Agent Maria Hill. The one who went to work in the private sector after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. Their friend, kind of. So, Hill knew her mother? How had that happened? And she was calling to ask where May was, to see when anyone had last heard from her. She must have known that May was missing. Even though she wasn’t with S.H.I.E.L.D., she had still somehow suspected that May was gone. Were they still close, after Bahrain? Or had she been trying to bring Hill back into S.H.I.E.L.D. before she was kidnapped?

“Well, make sure you deal with that quickly,” Mama said sternly, “I’ve always liked Maria.”

“Sure, Mama,” May agreed, “I’ll take care of that soon.”

“And your mission?” her mom prompted her, “how was it? It went badly?”

May glanced over at Phil, who pulled a face and sipped at his tea (though something in the back of May’s mind told her he didn’t care for tea at the best of times).

“Um. It went alright,” May finally said.

“Alright,” Mama repeated, with a knowing look, “ _alright_. That’s about as bad as a mission can go, Melinda. What went so wrong?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, Mama,” May assured her again, “everything has been taken care of now. It’s _fine_. So, tell me, what have you been up to?”

Mama rolled her eyes at the obvious deflection, but indulged her, “well. Everything is the same around here, it always is. Although… you remember the Andersons, from up the street? Ex-CIA snipers, with that damn little dog that never stops barking. Well! I was talking to Dr Wilkes a few weeks back, and he said-”

May sat back and smiled, nodding along as her mother nattered on about the neighbourhood dramas, relishing in the quiet normality of it all. Sure, perhaps hearing about the retirements of assassins and superspies and mad genius scientists probably wasn’t that normal for other people, but it was for her. Or at least, it had been, before Hydra took over. How often had she sat here before, listening to her mother’s gossip about the legends from her S.H.I.E.L.D. history handbooks, with a hot cup of tea in her hands and the peaceful chirping of birds in the trees outside?

All the former agents, at least all those who lived long enough to _be_ a former agent, seemed to end up here. It was hard for them, to be retired after such long and exciting careers: after devoting so much of their lives in service of saving the world, none of them were quite sure how to go back to being someone who needed to be saved. These were the lucky ones, sure, the ones who got to step down rather than being shot down. But they never could quite shake their former lives and return to being just normal people. It helped to be together, to be surrounded by others who were in the same awkward state between agent and civilian. May wondered what it would be like when she retired. She couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like, to go from fighting supervillains and shutting down doomsday devices, to planting flowers and playing golf. What would it be like for her? Would she end up here too and spend her days like her mother did, telling stories of former legends and doing her best to keep busy? Would she stay friends with Phil and her other colleagues? How many of her friends would last long enough to end up here?

Phil politely prompted her mom on whenever there was a lapse in the stories, and May glanced over at him and smiled fondly. He smiled back, shifting slightly closer to her, and rest his hand lightly on her knee. She continued to watch him for a moment as he turned his attention back to her mom, nodding and smiling along at her retelling of how she’d first encountered Peggy Carter. He must have heard this story before, because she’d heard it a million times over since she’d joined S.H.I.E.L.D., and though she didn’t remember him anymore, in this world she and Phil Coulson had known each other since their very first mission. Perhaps they would end up retired here together: he’d been a teacher in the Other World, so perhaps he’d have better luck than the rest of them at being normal. Then again, they’d have to be astronomically lucky to get to start their careers together and then end them together. That was simply the nature of this job: you formed unbreakable bonds with brave and wonderful people, and then watched them die. Perhaps it was better that she’d forgotten most of her life. She couldn’t imagine how many friends she’d lost here fighting Hydra.

“One of our scientists just adores her,” Phil was telling her mom, with a laugh, “I think she’s started a collection of ‘ _Things Peggy Carter May Have Touched’_.”

Mama snorted, “you ought to take her Dr Wilkes. She _touched_ him a few times, from what I hear.”

May smiled to herself. Her mom always knew the best gossip.

Phil chuckled, “did she? I don’t think I’ve heard that one.”

“It’s not for polite company,” Mama smirked knowingly, “but perhaps I’ll call him by for you, for lunch?”

“For lunch?” May echoed, glancing at the clock to see they’d been there all morning. She took one final mouthful of her tea to find it had gone cold. Her mother really didn’t ever shut up.

“Well, of course you’re eating here,” Mama said briskly, “look how thin you are! Don’t they feed you at S.H.I.E.L.D.? You must be starving yourself.”

“Oh, no, I’m not hungry,” May said. Her mother instantly frowned, eyes narrowing.

“Not hungry? What does that mean? Why aren’t you eating, Melinda?” she demanded, “are you ill?”

“Oh, I’m just a little under the weather, Mama,” May lied, “it’s nothing to worry about.”

Her mom hummed sympathetically, “sickly. Then you _must_ eat, Melinda, or you’ll _stay_ sick.”

“We’ve got plans already, actually,” Phil interrupted, offering May’s mom an apologetic smile, “but don’t worry. I’ll make sure she eats something.”

May grimaced, glancing at Phil curiously. Since when did they have plans? He shot her a look, ‘ _just go along with it_ ,’ and she decided to indulge him for now.

“Yes, Mama, I promise I’ll eat something,” she sighed, because she imagined she wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

“ _Fine._ Then, of course, you’ll come back for dinner,” Mama said matter-of-factly, “I can’t send you off back home without feeding you, when you’re this small now.”

May snorted in spite of herself, “I’ve always been small, Mama.”

“I don’t know how long we’ll be,” Phil said offhandedly, glancing at May, and raising his eyebrow. She shot him a look back, pleadingly.

He sighed, “But sure, dinner sounds… wonderful. We’ve just got a few things to wrap up first. We’ll be back around… say, eight?”

“You’ll be back around _six_ ,” Mama corrected him, her expression leaving no room for argument, “I’ll see you both then.”

Phil stood up then, offering May a hand to help her to her feet. She accepted with a grateful smile, her hand lingering in his a little too long to just be friendly.

“Ahem,” her mother interrupted, “Melinda. Come help me with the dishes, and then you can leave.”

“Of course, Mama,” Melinda agreed, picking up the teacups and following her mother into the kitchen with one last glance over her shoulder at Phil.

“And what’s happening _there_ , Melinda?” her mother inquired, setting the teapot down on the counter, “is that what you came to talk to me about? Phillip?”

“What? Phillip?” May echoed, putting the teacups in the sink and starting the tap, “he’s just helping me with… work things.”

Mama scoffed, “Right. _Work things_. Is that what it's called these days?”

“What _what’s_ called these days?” May asked.

Mama waved a hand dismissively, “Is he good to you? Because I’ll kill him myself if he’s not. He’s already got a grave, and I doubt anyone will miss him. He had best be good to you.”

“Sure?” May answered slowly, not quite sure what she was being asked, “he’s always been a good friend.”

Mama snorted but say nothing else, and just rolled her eyes as she started drying the teacups, “when he wants to be, I suppose. Don’t forget how he treated you after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, Mellie.”

“I won’t,” May said, though she’d already forgotten, “it’s alright, Mama.”

“So, what do you need, then?” her mom asked, taking May’s hands to hold them tightly between her own, “you know I can’t find someone for you if you don’t even give me a name.”

“I don’t need you to find anyone or anything, Mama,” Melinda assured her, “I just wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”

Mama scoffed, “you already came by in the New Year. And I’ll see you again for Thanksgiving. Why see me now?”

“Because I missed you,” May told her honestly, “it’s… it’s a long story, and someday I’ll try to explain it all to you, but it’s too complicated and messy right now. But I… I really, really missed you, Mama. You have no idea how much I missed you.”

Her mother frowned, then wrapped her arms around her, “I’ve missed you too, Mellie. I miss you every day.”

May hugged her back tightly, pressing her face to her mother’s shoulder. Some more of the tightness in her chest eased away as her mother stroked her hair and kissed the side of her head. Finally. _This_ felt like home. 

“You can always come home, Melinda,” her mom murmured soothingly, “no matter what happens, no matter what you do or who you become, you can always come home.”

May nodded, not trusting her voice not to break if she tried to speak. She had a home to come back to, not just the terrible empty room at the base. She had a home, and she had her mother, and maybe this world wasn’t quite so terrible anymore.

Phil cleared his throat from the doorway, “we should probably get going.”

May nodded, and kissed her mother on the cheek, “I’ll see you tonight, Mama.”

“Of course,” her mother said, as she followed them both out to the front porch, “you’ll be here at six. Don’t be late.”

“We won’t. It was lovely seeing you again, Ms. Hua,” Phil said, shaking her hand politely.

Mama nodded wisely, “and you. You take care of her, Phillip.”

“I will,” he promised. May reluctantly returned to the car, as her mother watched them both from the front porch with her arms folded, like she always did.

“Why are we leaving?” May asked as he started the car, “is something wrong?”

“No, no,” he assured her, “we really do have plans for lunch. There’s someone who really wants to see you.”

“Someone who really wants to see me?” May echoed, “someone I know?”

Phil shrugged, “perhaps not anymore. But someone you’d probably want to see if you remembered.”

 

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if any of you guys saw Agent Carter, but I dropped a few references for you! Who spotted them all?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May and Phil have lunch with an old friend, inadvertently reopening an old wound.

They ended up at a restaurant in the inner city, looking at yet another damn menu. May frowned at it, only half-reading the seemingly endless list of dishes she wasn’t hungry enough to want to eat, as she scanned the room for a person she had no memory of.

“I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be looking for,” May hissed, tossing the menu down onto the table and folding her arms.

Phil rolled his eyes, “relax. They’ll get here when they get here.”

“They? How many are there?” May asked.

“Two, but we’ve only met Laura,” Phil explained patiently, “the baby is quite young, so I imagine he’s coming with her.”

“The baby,” May echoed, “she has a baby, then?”

Phil paused, then nodded, “she has three. But the bigger two are at school already, I think.”

May nodded, “And what _exactly_ did you tell her?”

“I told her that there had been an incident at work, that you had lost your memories, and that I was looking for anything that might help,” Phil told her, “I skipped over the Hydra torture thing, because she’s just a civilian and I don’t know how well she’d handle that. As soon as she heard, she said she _had_ to come see you.”

“She had to come see me,” May echoed, “are we close?”

Phil considered that, “yes, I’d say so. I don’t think you saw much of each other after Bahrain, but before that, you were good friends. She still sounded very attached to you when I spoke to her.”

“Laura Barton,” May repeated under her breath, hoping to trigger some memory. The woman who had told Phil about her storage locker. The wife of Clint Barton, who she’d asked to pick up vests for her. Someone who had insisted on seeing them as soon as she’d heard May had lost her memories, even though it must have been almost ten years since they were last close to each other.

“Hey, guys!”

May looked up to see a young woman waving at them as she crossed the restaurant, trying to contain a squirmy baby in her other arm.

“Laura!” Phil said brightly, standing up to kiss her on the cheek, “how are you? You remember May.”

“I’m well, I’m well. And yes, poor sweet May,” Laura said breathlessly as she sat down, “Oh, Melinda! How _are_ you?”

“I’m okay,” May shrugged, because this was probably one of her better days all things considered, “so, you’re Laura Barton?”

“I am. And this is Nate,” Laura introduced, cradling the infant to her chest, “you guys haven’t met him yet, but he’s been dying to meet you!”

May suspected that wasn’t true, but smiled amicably anyway, “he’s a beautiful child.”

“Would you like to hold him?” Laura offered.

“I don’t know,” May replied, “Would I?”

Laura didn’t quite know how to respond to that, and they both looked at Phil.

“I’m sure you would,” he finally answered, “babies love you.”

Laura smiled and hopped up, carefully placing the baby into May’s arms, then stood up and beamed down at both of them.

“A natural,” she proclaimed, and May had to admit she was probably right. The infant wriggled about in her arms for a moment, then settled against her chest with a sigh, grabbing a fistful of May’s shirt and tugging himself closer to her. May brought up a hand to stroke his downy baby curls, as he watched her with big dark eyes and chewed thoughtfully on his other hand.

“Did I have any children?” May asked, glancing over at Coulson.

He hesitated, “no, but you wanted to. You were pregnant a few times, but unfortunately nothing came of it.”

May nodded, looking back down at Nate. She’d wanted this. She’d wanted this, with beautiful Andrew who wrote her love letters, but nothing had come of it. Perhaps it was better that way: she couldn’t imagine she’d have been a good mother from inside a psych care facility. But another part of her still wanted this, even though it wasn’t a good idea.

“Here,” Laura rummaged through her bag and pulling out a child's drawing of a smiling family, "I told the kids I was visiting their Auntie Melinda, and Lila made this for you. Your Cooper is a little too old for that sort of thing now, but he did want to say hello and thank you for everything.”

“My Cooper?” May echoed.

“Your godson,” Laura explained, “Both of yours, Cooper Mason Barton. God, Natasha worked herself into _such_ a state when she found out about it and insisted the next one be named after her.”

May gently rocked the baby in her arms and nodded thoughtfully. She was someone’s 'Auntie Melinda'. She had a godson she’d never met.

“What did he want to thank me for?” May asked.

“For everything you’re doing for us,” Laura explained.

“And what am I doing for you?” May tried, _“exactly?”_

“Well, you’ve been communicating with Clint,” Laura frowned, “you… you don’t remember that either, do you?”

“I don’t remember Clint at all, much less when I last spoke to him,” May replied, a little helplessly, “why would I need to communicate with him?”

Laura slouched back in her chair, looking over at Phil pleadingly.

“Well, you remember how we talked about Natasha Romanoff being off the grid now, after the incident with the Avengers?” Phil offered.

“Sure,” May agreed slowly.

“Well, Clint is sort of in the same situation, except he didn’t sign first. But the government isn’t exactly _thrilled_ with him either,” Phil explained, then turned to Laura, “I didn’t know May was still in contact with him. How was she hiding that?”

“She never said,” Laura replied, because that did seem to be May’s main way of avoiding any problem. Just don’t say anything! May shook her head. So that’s why Laura needed to see her: because May was her only connection to her missing husband.

“You haven’t gotten any messages?” Laura asked, trying but failing to conceal her desperation.

“Not that I know of,” May replied evenly, “I don’t even remember Clint Barton, much less how to contact him.”

Laura sighed, “Oh, you poor thing. You don’t remember anything at all, do you?”

May shifted uncomfortably, trying not to disturb Nate too much, “well, no. Not much of anything, I’m afraid.”

“You’ll be alright,” Laura told her, because that’s what everyone seemed to do here, “Coulson got his memories back. Why shouldn’t you?”

May couldn’t even begin to explain the differences between the two situations, and just smiled weakly, “sure.”

 

~*~

 

“It’s nice to come up to the city sometimes,” Laura said brightly, “being out in the middle of nowhere can sometimes feel kind of… isolated. The kids love it though, but they’re just missing their dad so much right now.”

“Sure,” May agreed absently. Over the past hour, she’d learnt a few things about Laura Barton. Firstly, that she had a son named Cooper, who was 12. Secondly, that she had a daughter named Lila, who was 9. Thirdly, that she talked about the former two things near constantly. As much as May wished they were having a conversation about something she could contribute to, at least it made a nice change from trying to learn things about herself. 

“So, you’re not an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. then?” May asked.

Laura shook her head, “Oh, God, no. I mean, it’s alright for you guys. But I was just a waitress before I met Clint. The whole secret agent thing is a bit much for any normal person. I mean, I love Clint, but I don’t want anything to do with the whole secret agent thing.”

May remembered proudly that Andrew had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. for her, and smiled. Sure, the idea of working for a top-secret government department was a little strange at first, but everyone she knew had adapted... although, everyone she knew had already stayed in S.H.I.E.L.D., so perhaps she was biased there. Was Laura her only civilian friend?

“And how are you finding things here?” May asked.

“Finding things here?” Laura repeated, and May remembered she didn’t know about the other world. Damn it.

“Outside of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she amended smoothly, “I imagine that must be frightening.”

Laura considered that, “sure, a lot of crazy things have happened recently, but I think we’re all getting used to it, right? It’s not _ideal_ , but we adapt. Although, now with the Avengers gone, it’s strange to think of what will happen next time something awful happens.”

“There will always be a S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Phil assured her, “even when it didn’t seem like it, there still was. There will always be a S.H.I.E.L.D., and those who are loyal to it will fight to keep people like you safe.”

Phil’s phone started to buzz then, cutting off his monologue, and he glanced down at it.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, standing up suddenly and quickly heading outside. May watched him leave thoughtfully. S.H.I.E.L.D. was like Hydra then, the protector here. Someone had to keep people safe from all the madness of the word, after all.

“He sounded so frightened on the phone, but you seem fine enough. He’s always so dramatic, that Phil Coulson,” Laura sighed fondly, “I just think it’s so nice you two are still best friends, after all these years.”

“Well, he is my _only_ friend,” May pointed out.

“Don’t be silly, you’ve got lots of friends,” Laura laughed, but stopped when she realised May wasn’t laughing with her, “you know that, right?”

“I find it hard to believe that sh-…. that _I_ have friends here,” May replied, “No one seems to talk to me.”

“Oh, but you just don’t like talking,” Laura dismissed that thought with a wave of her hand, “everyone likes you, Melinda, everyone!”

May just rolled her eyes, “Yeah. It sure sounds like it, alright.”

Laura reached across the table to squeeze May’s hand.

“Clint would want me to take care of you,” she said firmly, “And poor, sweet Andrew.”

“My husband?” May asked, “You knew him?”

“We were all so close, back in the day. The four of us used to do everything together before you two divorced. But then… oh, you were so devastated when he passed away,” Laura shook her head, “I know he was sick, but it was all so _sudden.”_

“He… he was sick?” May frowned, glancing over at Phil, who was still talking on his phone outside.

“Oh, yes. You were distraught about it. You didn’t tell us the specifics,” Laura said, _because of course May didn’t,_ “but you said that he’d become very ill, and it had _consumed_ him. You were so angry that he hadn’t told anyone about it until it was too late to cure him. God, Melinda... you were so _devastated.”_

May nodded slowly, staring at the table. She felt a part of that inside of her shift, and a bitter, tearful anger bubbling up within her chest, feeling oddly familiar. He hadn’t told her. She could have saved him if she knew, but she hadn’t because he hadn't told her and now he was gone. She’d wanted to hate him, but she couldn’t. She remembered the anger, the pain, the frustration, the devastation. She remembered losing Andrew.

“Is everything alright?” Laura asked.

“Sure, sure,” May lied, “I just… I knew he’d died; I just didn’t know how.”

“It was all so sad,” Laura sighed, shaking her head, “you two had just gotten back together when he got ill. You were so heartbroken by it. I don’t know how you managed.”

“Neither do I,” May admitted. Phil returned to the table, looking a little harried, and then frowned. 

“What are we talking about?” he asked, looking around at Laura’s sorrowful eyes and May’s stricken expression, “everything okay?”

“We were just talking about Andrew,” Laura explained, “Clint and I never even got to say goodbye.”

“No one did, not really,” Phil offered gently, “but Melinda was with him. That’s what he would have wanted.”

“Did I get to say goodbye to him?” May asked desperately.

“Yes, I think so,” Phil said, “as much as you could ever say goodbye to Andrew.”

 

~*~

 

They decided after lunch that it was best to head back to the storage locker and see if there was anything useful there at all. So far, nothing had made much of an impact on May, other than the odd feeling slipping through. She was quiet on the drive over, staring thoughtfully at her hands.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Phil finally asked once he'd parked outside the building, “you didn’t like them?”

“Oh, sure, I liked them,” May agreed, “Laura and the baby… they were both very sweet.”

Phil sighed, “Then what is it?”

“I… I remembered another feeling,” May admitted softly. 

“You did?” Phil’s whole face lit up; then he seemed to think better of it, “… oh. It was a bad one?”

May nodded, “I remembered how it felt to lose Andrew.”

Phil was silent for a moment, staring at her almost horrified, before he could finally find something to say.

“Oh, God, May, I’m so sorry,” Phil whispered, drawing her into a hug, “Oh, that’s… that’s terrible. That’s the worst thing you could have remembered.”

“What _happened_ to him?” May demanded tearfully, “you said he died on a mission. Laura said he got sick. What happened to Andrew?”

“Both of those things are true,” Phil told her gently, leaning back from her so he could look her in the eye, “Andrew… went through terrigenesis.”

May flinched. Her husband, an _inhuman_. What kind of cruel joke was the universe playing on her?

“I think you still loved him, even then,” Phil offered, seeing her expression change, “he would never have done anything to hurt you. But, the monster inside of him… it killed a lot of people. He had no control over it, and it consumed him. He was so ashamed of what he’d become; he couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“He became a monster,” May whispered, knowing in her heart that it was true. Her beautiful, sweet husband had turned into a literal monster.

“He loved you,” Phil said, as if that made a difference, “he would never have hurt you.”

“He killed people,” May said softly, more to herself than to him, “he _killed_ people.”

Phil hesitated, “he did. He didn’t come out of terrigenesis like any else we’d seen. He… he didn’t have control over the monster, once he’d transformed. He kept shifting, between man and beast.”

May blinked up at him, “He tried to fight it?”

“He did,” Phil assured her, “but… he didn’t tell anyone. Not even you. So, we couldn’t help him.”

“I wanted to save him,” May told him, “I wanted to _fix_ it.”

“I know you did,” Phil took her hands in his own, “you wanted to make it better, but there was nothing you could have done, okay? Once we knew what had happened, we tried to find a cure, but it was too late. You were with him, on his final transformation. You got to talk to him, one last time. You didn’t say much of what happened when you said goodbye; it was too personal. And then, a while later, the inhuman version of him was killed on a mission.”

“But I’d already lost him by then,” May murmured, staring down at her hands, “I lost him to the inhuman.”

“May, I’m so sorry,” Phil told her, “I know how hard it was for you. I can’t even begin to imagine how you’re feeling now.”

“The same way I always feel,” May said bitterly, pulling away from him to fold her arms across her chest, “desperate for a cure for inhumanity.”

“Don’t say that,” Phil said instantly, and shook his head, “May… don’t say things like that.”

“Why?” she snapped, “are you one too?”

“No,” he said slowly, “that’s actually how I lost my hand. Touching terrigen.”

“Don’t you see?” May pointed out, “all the worst things in my life- what happened in Bahrain and losing Andrew- it all comes back to them.”

“Well,” Phil hesitated, “But what about all the good?”

May snorted, “what good?”

Phil didn’t have an answer to that.

~*~


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May's mom is determined to find out what's bothering her youngest daughter.

The storage locker really didn’t do anything to help with May’s memories. She did have a better sense of who the May of this world had been, she supposed, but she wanted _more_ than that.

“There’s _nothing_ ,” she announced for the millionth time, throwing down an old box of cassettes in frustration, “so, we like the same music, so what?”

“Okay, okay,” Phil pushed the box aside, “maybe let’s take a break, refocus?”

“Oh, on what?” May snapped, “there’s nothing _else_ to focus on. This is hopeless, Phil. Everything here I either already remember or means _nothing_ to me.”

“Alright. I think we’re done for today,” Phil clapped his hands together, “come on, you’re getting stressed. Let’s lock up and head out.”

“ _Getting_ ,” May scoffed, but decided to indulge him, if only for lack of anything better to do. She did slip one of the cassettes in her pocket as she hopped up, earning her a questioning look from Phil.

“For O’Brien,” she explained, “I don’t remember how to make mixtapes anymore, so I’ll have to bring him one of his old ones.”

Phil’s expression softened, “oh.”

“ _Oh_?” May repeated.

He smiled fondly, “it’s just… that’s a very _Melinda_ thing to do.”

“What, passing off someone else’s work as my own?” May scoffed.

Phil considered his words carefully, “going out of your way to take care of a stranger.”

May didn’t have a retort to that, so she fell silent.

“Come on,” Phil said again, “let’s go get some air.”

 

~*~

 

Though May would never admit it, things did seem a little less bleak outside. Sitting in the passenger seat of Lola felt comfortable and easy, like she’d been there a million times before. Perhaps she had, who knew? With the sun starting to dip in the afternoon sky, the city skyline was lit up in shades of burnt orange and dusty pink, and the glimmering windows of the skyscrapers were transformed into the stained glass of the world’s largest church. It was quiet here, as the workday ended and the ordinary people migrated back to their suburban homes. May idly wondered idly what it would be like to be one of them. She could have done it, if she had wanted to. Gotten a normal job, clocked in at nine and clocked out at five, then went home to a normal house with a normal family. She could have been normal, right? She sighed, shaking her head. Not in any world she’d ever been to.

“We should probably head out to your mom’s soon,” Phil remarked, “she’ll be expecting us.”

May winced, “Yeah. I’m sorry about that.”

“You’re sorry?” Phil echoed, “what do you even have to be sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for dragging you into all of this,” May apologised, “I know it isn’t really what you agreed to, and I-”

“Melinda, it’s fine. Anything to make you feel better,” Phil assured her, “if seeing your mom makes you happy, then that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Maybe I should just tell her the truth,” May sighed, “but I… I don’t know what she’ll think. I don’t _want_ to know. What would you do?”

Phil sighed, and shrugged helplessly, “I honestly have no idea. I mean, if I found out my mom was alive again, I… I don’t know. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re feeling.”

May snorted at that, “well, I don’t even know what I’m feeling, so I guess that makes two of us.”

“I know this is hard. All of it,” Phil told her gently, “but things will turn out okay in the end. You’ll see. They always do.”

“Yeah, they always do, until they _don’t_ ,” May rolled her eyes, “are you sure you don’t mind? You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Do _you_ want me to?” Phil asked. May was silent for a long moment, staring out at the empty open road as if it could answer for her.

“I feel better when you’re around,” she said quietly, more to the road than to him. Phil reached over to take one of her hands and brought it up to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles.

“Then I’ll stay,” he promised, “for as long as you want me to, I’ll stay.”

 

~*~

 

At her mother’s house, the sun was already starting to dip behind the trees, casting shadows and bright streaks of deep purple and gold across the lawns. This she had memories of at least, thousands of memories.

“You know the way here pretty well,” May remarked as Phil stopped the car.

Phil shrugged, “well, I’ve spent a few holidays out here with your family, just like you did back in Wisconsin with mine. Especially when your parents were divorcing: you didn’t want to get in the middle of that.”

“I did?” May asked, “that must have been nice. What’s your family like?”

“Much smaller,” Phil smirked, “it was just my mom and me then. She’s passed away now, but for the last few years before that, we were spending most of our breaks out there. Mom lived not far from a lake that you were fond of for ice skating, so you liked it best in winter.”

“Mm. Sounds fun,” May paused, “I’m sorry to hear she’s passed.”

“It was a long time ago now,” Phil replied, “we’d only been working for S.H.I.E.L.D. for a few years then. It was hard, but I had you, so I survived it. Mom always loved you. She thought you were adorable, and you _let_ her, so, I guess you loved her too.”

May smiled at that, “I guess so.”

The door was unlocked, so they let themselves in: she could smell her mother cooking already, the fragrant smells of a country May had never frequented.

“Mama!” she called out, closing the door gently behind them, “we’re here!”

They wandered through to the kitchen, where her mother was preoccupied with watching the hundred different things that seemed to be currently cooking. May felt like she might be feeling the first stirrings of hunger that she’d felt since waking up.

She leant over to kiss her mother’s cheek, “Hi, Mama.”

“Melinda. Phillip,” she nodded at both of them, “how was your lunch?”

May considered that for a moment, “Um. Progress was made, I suppose.”

“So, it was for work?” Mama asked.

“Something like that, yeah,” May agreed, “how was your day?”

She waved a hand dismissively, “busy, busy, the same as always. Dinner’s almost ready, go set the table.”

May rolled her eyes but indulged her. Phil helped because he seemed to be good about that sort of thing, and she watched him thoughtfully as he adjusted the placement of cutlery so it was aligned just right, with a strange new emotion bubbling up inside of her. Was he right, that his version of May couldn’t possibly feel anything but friendship towards him? If she felt something… something _else_ , was that because those feelings were her own, or were they still residue from who she’d once been?

“What’s up?” Phil asked, stirring her out of her thoughts.

May shook her head, “just thinking.”

 

~*~

 

The food, as always, was delicious. May had always wished that she could cook like her mother, who seemed so effortlessly perfect at everything in the kitchen, whereas her cooking tended to end in disaster more often than not. May was pleased with how much she’d eaten at dinner, her most valiant attempt yet, but clearly, her mother disagreed.

“Why aren’t you eating, Melinda?” Mama frowned, watching her carefully, “are you very ill?”

“No, Mama, I’m fine,” May assured her, “it’s just a lot of food.”

“It should be a lot of food,” Mama argued, “look how thin you are! Too thin! Eat!”

May rolled her eyes, “ _Mama_. I’m _fine_.”

Her mom scoffed again, turned her attention to Phil, “so? What’s wrong with her?”

Phil, to his credit, didn’t seem surprised by Mama’s bluntness, “I’m sure she’ll be fine, ma’am.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Mama retorted, “what is it you’re not telling me?”

“A lot of things,” May told her, “so, so many things, Mama. But this is nothing to worry about.”

Her mom stared at her for a long moment, then finally nodded.

“Alright then,” she conceded, throwing her hands up in the air, “but if you die, don’t come crying to me about it.”

May rolled her eyes, “I don’t see how I _would.”_

Her mother just snorted, tossing her napkin on the table. May copied her, pulling a face, and Phil snorted with barely suppressed laughter.

“Yes, Phillip?” Mama asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I… I wanted to thank you for dinner, Ms. Hua,” Phil said politely, “it was delicious.”

May yawned, “yes, thank you, Mama. It was wonderful.”

“That of it that you ate,” Mama grumbled under her breath.

“I should probably get her home,” Phil remarked, standing up, “we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

Mama frowned, “what’s that now?”

“It’s a few hours back to base,” Phil informed her, “don’t worry, I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Phillip. You can’t take my Melinda home at this hour,” Mama chided him, “and in a _convertible,_ for goodness sake! No, you’ll stay the night. You can leave after breakfast.”

He glanced over at May, who blinked up at them both sleepily.

“Mama, it’s fine,” she tried, but her mom wasn’t having any of it.

“You’re already sick,” her mom told her sternly, “you want pneumonia too?”

May hesitated, and Phil seemed to take that as an answer.

“You’re probably right, Ms. Hua,” he relented politely, “Thank you. We’ll leave in the morning.”

“ _Probably_ right,” Mama muttered, rolling her eyes, but nodded, “I’ll make up the guest room for you, Phillip. Melinda, you take care of the dishes.”

“Sure, Mama,” May agreed, and they both stood up. Mama retreated upstairs, leaving May and Phil to clear the table and wash up. They settled into a comfortable silence, as May washed the dishes and Phil dried them, neither feeling the need to speak.

“I’ll text Simmons and Daisy to tell them we won’t be home,” Phil said finally, “I can’t imagine we’ll be leaving early tomorrow anyway, so it might be while before Simmons can drag you back into the lab.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” May asked.

Phil frowned, “what, Simmons testing you? Sure. I don’t know if she knows what she’s looking for just yet, but it won’t hurt to have a record.”

“No, no,” May shook her head, “do you think it’s a good idea to stay tonight?”

“Oh,” Phil said, then shrugged, “sure, I guess. I don’t want to give you pneumonia, after all.”

May scoffed, “it’s not that cold out.”

“It might be, by the time we get back to base?” Phil offered, “Besides, you seem happier here. At peace. The base was just stressing you out. If being home with you mom makes you happy, you should stay here.”

“And what about you?” May asked.

“I’m happy if you’re happy,” he replied calmly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

May sighed, “how do you even know I’m capable of being happy in this reality? What made you think the Other May was?”

“Little things,” Phil said, and paused, “it was… for the first time after Bahrain, you were started to get back to being more... you. Not the same as you were before, but not so... hollow. You were more talkative, or as talkative as you get, I suppose. Smiling more. Telling jokes. You let me jump in a dumpster for no reason because you thought it would be funny.”

“Well, that does sound funny,” May muttered, but smiled.

“I really do think you were happy, no matter what Radcliffe decided,” Phil told her, “and I do think you’ll be happy again.”

May nodded to herself, drying off her hands, “Thank you, Phil. Really.”

He smiled at that, “look, whether we leave tonight or tomorrow won’t make any difference in the long run. It’s easier just to stay. You guys eat breakfast pretty early anyway. And who knows? Maybe the change of scene will help.”

May nodded, although she didn’t think it would do much of anything. Nothing else seemed to be helping, how could being here help? The only real hope for things to get better was for something to come out of the lab, and Simmons hadn’t sounded optimistic about that. Would she have to spend the rest of her life like this, being made up of false memories? Would she forever wonder who she was _meant_ to be, who she _could_ have been, if not for Radcliffe rewriting her brain?

“It’s okay, Melinda,” Phil said, interrupting her worrying, “it’s all going to be okay.”

May pulled a face, “maybe I’m just tired.”

“Maybe,” he agreed easily, because that seemed like the best option here, “I’m sure you’ll feel a little better in the morning.”

“Sure,” May nodded, although she didn’t have any faith in it, “Come on, I’m sure Mama’s done by now.”

Phil followed her upstairs, where Mama had finished making up the bed in the guest room for him. 

“Phillip. You’ll stay in here,” she indicated towards the guest room, then glanced at May, “and you, Melinda? Do you want me to make up your room, or will you be sleeping with him?”

Phil’s face flushed red, and his eyes widened in alarm, while May just blinked at her mom in confusion.

“Uhh… no. I’ll be alright on my own,” May told her slowly. Was it that obvious to her mom that she was totally co-dependent on Phil?

Mama just snorted, “sure, Melinda. Come on then. Goodnight, Phillip.”

“Goodnight, ma’am. Thank you,” he spluttered, still looking mortified.

May leant over to kiss him on his flushed cheek, “Goodnight, Phil. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight,” he said, more to the ground than to her, “um. I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Yeah, probably,” May agreed. Her mother cleared her throat, tapping her foot impatiently, and May relented, following her down the hallway to her old room. The walls were still lavender like she’d insisted they be painted when she was 15, with a handful of old posters still tacked up. Her mother had always told them that she was going to get around to turning her children’s old rooms into guest rooms eventually, but never seemed to find the time. May was glad for it now, as she looked around, taking in the familiar sight. _This_ was somewhere she knew. This felt like it was hers. 

“So,” her mother said, startling May out of her thoughts, as she made up the bed, “you’re not sleeping together, then? Or was that for my benefit?”

“Sleeping together?” May echoed, surprised, “don't be silly, Mama, we live on base together, but we’ve got our own rooms. It’s not like I'm at cheerleading camp… wait, Mama, you think Phil and I are having _sex?”_

Her mother looked bemused, “you’re telling me you’re _not?”_

“No!” May exclaimed, “Mama! He’s my best friend.”

Mama scoffed, “I know that. You think I don’t see?”

“See what, Mama?” May sighed, “what’s there to see?”

“You think I don’t know what that look in your eyes means?” Mama snorted, “I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that for a very long time, Mellie, but I still know that look.”

May sighed, sitting down on the bed. Sure, Phil didn’t seem to have noticed, but her mother did have a keen eye for that sort of thing. She’d already have a complete biography of any of her daughters’ childhood crushes before they’d even had a chance to write a sappy diary entry about it.

“It’s complicated,” May finally said, because that was true.

“These things always are,” her mom told her wisely, “if it weren't complicated there would be more reason to worry, I should think.”

“There’s no way anything will come of it,” May reasoned, more to herself than to her mother, “not… not now.”

“Well, not with that sort of attitude,” Mama rolled her eyes, but came to sit next to her daughter anyway, “why shouldn’t anything come of it?”

“Because, Mama,” she shook her head, “there’s… there’s too much going on right now. It’s not the right time to even be _thinking_ about that sort of thing.”

“Not the right time,” her mother snorted, “as if there is ever a right time.”

May didn’t reply because she couldn’t even _begin_ to explain all the reasons why she couldn’t act on any feeling she may or may not be developing for Phil Coulson. She was barely even a real person, with a brain full of programmed memories and a heart filled with feelings she didn’t understand. Who knew where these feelings for Phil were coming from! Did they even belong to her? Worse, what if they _did_ come from her, and then they found a way to fix her brain? What if she acted on them, then was erased again, and stopped feeling like this? How could she do that to him? She shook her head with a sigh. They were just tiny little feelings that probably meant nothing. It wasn’t anything to worry about. They probably weren’t even _real_ feelings. She turned her attention back to her mother, who was still watching her closely. She’d missed her so much; she almost thought her heart might burst from it. She could still see her parents’ death so clearly in her mind, still feel all the pain as raw as it had been the day she’d found out they were gone. She could still feel a part of herself sobbing in the living room downstairs with her sisters, as they tried to make sense of what had happened: there was a hand on her head shakily stroking her hair, as they all clung to each other, whispering through tears _“how could this happen?”_

“That’s not all that’s bothering you,” Mama said thoughtfully, “so, what is it? What’s troubling you so much?”

“Nothing,” May sighed, rubbing her eyes, “I’m just tired, Mama. It’s been a long day.”

“Little one,” her mother said gently, even though Melinda was in her fifties now, “what _happened_? What’s wrong? What is so bad you can’t tell me?”

May thought about that for a long moment. What was wrong? _Everything, Mama_. She’d become a Hydra commander and lead a specialised military to support an oppressive government, for God’s sake! She’d killed more people that she could count. They were all just pieces of code now, sure, but she hadn’t known that at the time. She had thought they were real, and she’d let them be murdered. Hell, she’d even lead the slaughter a few times herself. And then, it hadn’t been real at all, and she’d been forced back into a world she didn’t belong to, by people who didn’t seem to like her that much anyway. They’d sent her back to the place where she’d died, all alone, and that what had started this whole mess.

“Mama… Mama, I died,” May whispered because that at least she could tell her. Her mother’s eyes widened, jaw dropping.

“Oh, my baby,” she murmured, “Oh, my angel. I’m so sorry.”

May wrapped her arms around her, pressing her face to her shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter,” she told her tearfully, “it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” her mother whispered firmly, stroking her hair, “it matters, Mellie. It matters, because _you_ matter.”

May couldn’t hold onto her composure after that, and began to sob, clinging to her mother. She cried for all that had happened, not just her death, but for all the deaths she’d caused and all that she had lost. She cried for Garrett and Sitwell, her two best friends who she’d never get to see again, who were unfairly condemned as evil in this world and who's reputations she would never be able to make right.She cried for Andrew, who had loved her and who she’d forgotten, because she’d never get a chance to meet the love of her life now, and because all she had to remember him by was the agony of not being able to save him in time. She cried for Phil, who she knew she’d lost as well from the pain in her chest she got whenever she thought of his scarred skin, and for all he had suffered because of her. But most of all, she cried for the Other May, who’d known nothing but suffering and loss, and had been taken apart and destroyed by someone she thought was a friend. Her mother held her back just as tightly, murmuring soothing words, and rocking her gently. She felt like such a child, but couldn’t find the energy to care. She stayed in her mother’s arms long after her tears subsided, eyes shut tightly, listening to the soft hum of her mother’s voice, and feeling the safest she had felt since waking up.  

“Oh, Melinda,” her mother murmured, “Oh, my little angel. Don’t be scared. It’s over now.”

May just sighed, shaking her head, “Mama… I don’t know if this will ever be over.”

 

~*~


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May tries her best to avoid confronting her new feelings.

May woke up with the sunrise.

The first weak rays of sunlight were peeking through the curtains, casting a soft pink glow around the room. There was no busy city here like back in her world, just the twittering of birds outside her window. It was still and quiet, certainly, but without becoming the eerie silence of the Playground. Though last night had been draining, she had fallen asleep easily (if only because she was so tired). Perhaps it was just because she was tired or perhaps it was because she’d finally finished crying out all her tears about everything that had happened to her, but it had been the best night she could remember having, in either life. 

As she sat up, rubbing her eyes, she heard someone clearing their throat from the corner of her room. She glanced over, half expecting to see Phil or her mom waiting for her to wake. Instead, there was a small red-haired woman, sitting curled up at her desk, watching her with a thoughtful expression. May blinked at her sleepily, frowning. Since when did her mother let strangers into the house, much less up in the bedroom?

“Hey, Chief,” the woman said, with a smile. Okay, so not a stranger then.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” May said, because that seemed like the normal thing to do.

“I heard you were back,” the woman replied, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world, “well, your mom called Hill, who called Barton, who called me to see if you were the real deal. What, with the 33 Incident and everything.”

“Sure,” May agreed slowly, not knowing what that was. So, her mom had called Maria Hill back then, to tell her May was alive. And then, Hill apparently had some contact with at least one of the Bartons, who had sent this woman to check up on May. Right.

“So, what happened?” the woman prompted her. Damn it. What happened _when_? Was this about the Framework? Something in the Other May’s life? Who the hell was this woman anyway, and how did she get into May’s room?

“A lot happened,” May sighed, running her fingers through her hair. That, at least, was true.

“Bad op?” the woman asked.

May hesitated, “I can only _remember_ one worse.”

“ _Oh_ ,” the woman looked alarmed, immediately standing up and coming to sit next to May, “God, Melinda, I’m so sorry. I... are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” May said, but that was kind of a lie, “I _will_ be. Or so I keep hearing.”

The woman half-smiled at that, “Coulson pissing you off again?”

May rolled her eyes, “it’s just been a very long month.”

So, the woman knew Coulson too then. May supposed that made sense: they seemed to come as a pair. Perhaps she was an old colleague, someone who was no longer at S.H.I.E.L.D. with them. But why would she bother coming all the way out here to see her? 

“Listen, I’m sorry for dodging you,” the woman offered awkwardly, “I needed to work through some stuff on my own first. Obviously, as soon as Barton called to ask if I’d heard from you guys, we went looking for you.”

May nodded, keeping her expression neutral, “sure.”

“I had to come and make sure you were okay,” the woman told her, still watching May’s face carefully for something.

“I’m okay,” May told her, “until whatever new hell we stumble into next week.”

The woman chuckled, “knowing you; you’d be lucky to get a week.”

May snorted but smiled in agreement.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” the woman asked again.

“No,” May answered honestly, “things are a little… _off_ , right now. But I’m getting better. Apparently, it’s going to take some time.”

The woman nodded, and reached over to pat May’s hand, “sure. Time. That’s all it is. I’m glad you’re okay. After how you were after Bahrain, I… I was worried about what I might find here.”

May nodded solemnly, “things aren't  _quite_ that bad this time.”

The woman offered her a tight-lipped smile and stood up, heading towards the door, “Alright then. I’ll report back in with the others. I should head out before anyone sees me.”

“Wait,” May called, and the woman turned around, “and when will _I_ see you again?”

She hesitated, “not for a while. I’m still… I’m still getting better too. But I’ll try to be better about keeping in touch, okay?”

May nodded, “okay. I’ll hear from you soon then.”

“Alright, alright,” the woman grumbled, but smiled in spite of herself, “tell Coulson I said hi, okay Chief?”

“Okay,” May agreed. With that, the woman left, leaving only a warm feeling in May’s chest. But who was she? Why did she care about her so much? And Hill and Barton… she had no idea who any of these people were, yet they knew her. They _cared_ about her, though she hadn’t seen either in person and didn’t know the name of the third. This woman had come to check up on her, sneaking into the house and risking the wrath of the famed Hua Lian (and if this woman knew where the house was, then she _must_ know the legends of May’s mom), just to make sure she was okay? To be able to tell Hill and Barton that May was safe and alive? Why would anyone do that?

May got up, dressing quickly, and headed down the hall. There was no trace of the red-haired woman anywhere, but something in the back of May’s mind told her not to be surprised.

She knocked lightly on Phil’s door, “Phil? Are you up?”

There was no response, so she let herself in, to find he was still fast asleep. He looked so peaceful there; she couldn’t help but to lean against the doorframe and watch him dreaming for a moment. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyelids flicked with dreams: she imagined what it would be like to lie there next to him, to wake up in his arms, her heart beating against his scarred chest as she kissed him good morning-

Damn it.

May sighed, not sure if she’s more annoyed or amused. It looked like her mom had been right: she was falling in love with Phil Coulson. Or had the Other May already fallen for him? She sighed, shaking her head at her own stupidity and poor timing, and closed the door. Well. She could always ask him later about the red-haired woman later. There was time for that. And she needed time to compose herself.

She headed downstairs, because that seemed safer than being anywhere near Phil, and found her mom sipping tea in the kitchen.

“You’re up late, Mellie,” her mom remarked, without even turning around, “did you sleep well?”

May nodded, “Very well, actually. And you?”

“Well enough,” Mama shrugged, handing her a cup of tea, “are you feeling better?”

She smiled, “I am. Thank you. For everything.”

Her mother rolled her eyes, but smiled back. They drank in silence for a while, and May wondered idly where the red-haired woman had disappeared to. Had her mother even known she’d been in the house? May was still pretty sure the woman was a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but her mother was still sharp as ever.

“No tai chi this morning?” May asked, glancing at the clock.

“I was waiting for you,” Mama shrugged, “finish your tea.”

 

֎

 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done tai chi. Before Bahrain, before Cambridge? It had been a while since she’d last practised in her world, not since her mother had died, but here her body seemed to remember it well, flowing through the forms as if it was second nature. The Other May must have stuck with it then: she could imagine her mother coaxing her out of bed after Bahrain to come practice on the back lawn. Was this a regular thing for the Other May, in her life back at S.H.I.E.L.D.? Or did she just visit her mom more often?

“Having trouble concentrating, Melinda?”  her mother asked lightly, though they both knew that she already knew the answer.

“Sorry,” May apologised, not quite knowing why. Her mother just nodded, moving into the next form. May tried in vain to clear her mind, but wasn’t having much luck. With her missing memories and her new feelings all tumbling around in her head, it was hard to think of anything else. She took a deep breath, willing her mind to clear of all thoughts, and just focus on moving between the forms. That at least, she had some luck with: perhaps the Other May was more practised at that too.

When they were finished, Mama was still watching her carefully, and May wondered which part of her was making her mom so worried about her. Her death? Her feelings for Phil? Or perhaps just how troubled she was by everything?

“You’re tense,” her mom remarked.

“I’m still a little sore,” May winced, rubbing her arms, “it’s been a long month, Mama. I just need some downtime and to stretch more.”

Mama hummed thoughtfully, “So, what happened?”

May frowned, “When?”

“How did you die?” Mama asked, folding her arms. Perhaps May wasn’t the only one with a lot on her mind this morning.

She hesitated, “well, I was infected on an op, and got very sick. They had to stop my heart for a few minutes to fix me. You didn’t come to see me?”

“They didn’t tell me,” her mom said, not bothering to hide the bitterness in her voice, “S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t tell me you’d died.”

May was silent for a long moment. Hadn't they called her family? Why not? After all, from the sounds of things, she’d been ill for some time before she died and they hadn’t known if she’d survive it. If she’d been sick for a while, if they’d thought she might have died permanently, then why hadn’t her family been called? Why hadn’t her parents come to say their last goodbyes? She deserved as much, to have someone there to comfort her, to whisper meaningless reassurances, to hold her hand as her heart was stopped… Why had she been all alone?

“I’m sorry, Mama,” May said finally, “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know,” her mom agreed, with a sad smile, “it’s alright, Melinda. You’re safe now.”

“Still,” May shook her head, “I… I’ll look into it.”

“With the way S.H.I.E.L.D. does things, it may well be,” Mama scoffed, “isn’t that right, Phillip?”

May glanced up to see Phil standing on the back porch, a cup of tea in his hands, watching them both thoughtfully. How long had he been there?

“What’s that now?” he called back. Mama just snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Time for breakfast,” she clapped her hands together, “come on, Melinda. You can help me cook.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” May protested, because it was a _terrible_ idea if they wanted to eat this morning.

Her mom just smiled, “I am.”

 

֎

 

By some miracle, breakfast wasn’t a complete disaster. Perhaps it was that it was too simple for her to screw up, or perhaps it was because Mama and Phil were both far more experienced cooks, but everything turned out delicious. May did her best to try and avoid staring at Phil too much, but her mom was still watching them both with a knowing look every time they smiled at each other. May’s appetite seemed to have started making a comeback this morning, and her mother at least was pleased that she was eating so much. Still, not enough, Mama was quick to tell her, but better. May was prepared to call that a success.

“So, back to work then today?” Mama asked, “or do you still have more time off?”

May rolled her eyes, “Mama, we’re secret agents. There is no _‘time off_ ’.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Mama replied, “you need to take more time off, Melinda. You’re working yourself to the bone. Look at you!”

“I’ve just been sick, Mama,” May reminded her, “I’ll be alright.”

Her mom snorted, “you _will_ be, if _listen_ to me and you _eat_.”

May sighed, “I will, Mama. Alright?”

“Alright,” her mom relented, but still pushed more food towards her. Phil snorted, and May glanced up at him: they shared a smile for a moment, before Mama cleared her throat.

“Now, you’ll take leftovers home,” she told them sternly, leaving no room for argument, “and Phillip, you’ll make sure she eats.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Phil promised, “I’ll take care of her.”

“Good,” Mama nodded, looking pleased. May just rolled her eyes, staring down at her plate. Of course Phil would take care of her, the sap. She wondered how her mother already knew that so well. Was it from all the holidays they’d spent out here as kids? From all their missions together? From how he’d cared for her after Bahrain? Perhaps it was just because that was how things had always been in this world: they took care of each other. She liked the thought of that.

“Thank you again, Ms. Hua, for everything,” Phil was saying, and May hummed in agreement.

Mama waved a hand dismissively, “for what? For nothing, Phillip. This was nothing.”

“That’s not true. You’ve done so much, for both of us. I am sorry, again, for dropping by so unexpectedly,” Phil said, always so polite.

“Perhaps if you dropped by more often, it wouldn’t be so unexpected,” Mama said pointedly, raising an eyebrow. May winced in spite of herself: sure, she was much closer to her mom in this world, but she was undoubtedly still too busy to spend much time out here. Her work was demanding, as much as it was necessary, and something would always need to be sacrificed to make time for saving the world. But the Other May hadn’t known any better, she supposed. She didn’t know that she’d live to regret it when her parents were gone. Or maybe she did, and she had decided the price of that regret was worth it.

“I’ll go pack you some food,” Mama stood up, “Melinda, clear the table.”

“Sure, Mama,” May agreed easily, and her mom just smiled to herself as she left. 

“You’re looking better,” Phil remarked lightly as he helped May collect the dishes, “how are you today?”

“I’m well,” May said, “you were right, I do feel better this morning.”

Phil looked pleased and beamed at her, and May had to turn away to stop herself from grinning back like an idiot.

“So… did you sleep well?” May tried, doing her best not to let her voice sound too affectionate.

“Sure,” Phil said earnestly, “it’s been so nice to be out here, in the real world. Not just like, out of the Framework, but _outside_. With fresh air and the sun. We should get out more, together.”

“Yeah,” May agreed slowly, “it’s been nice.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked, furrowing his brow, “did I… did I do something?”

“No, no,” she assured him quickly, because none of this was his fault, “I just need to ask you something, once we get out of here.”

He relaxed, and nodded, “sure, of course. We’ll be off soon anyway.”

They took the dishes into the kitchen, where her mom was already bagging up a small mountain of plastic containers for them to take back to the base.

“Mama,” May began to protest, but her mom shut her down with a withering stare. May just sighed dramatically, and Phil did his best to keep his laughter behind his hands.

“Thank you again, Ms. Hua,” he said politely, once he’d regained his composure, and went to collect the food, “you really are too kind.”

“You make sure she eats it,” Mama replied, “and you, Melinda: you had better not be this small next time I see you.”

“Sure, Mama,” May agreed, as her mom lead them to the door.

“Can you get the boot?” Phil asked, “the keys are in my pocket.”

May hesitated for a second, then nodded, “sure, of course.”

Using all the inner composure she’d rediscovered in tai chi this morning, she kept her mind perfectly clear as she fished out his keys and unlocked the car. She tried to help him carry the bags of food, but he was insistent that he do it all himself, so May retreated back to her mom on the porch.

“You’ll come back again soon?” her mom asked, but it wasn’t really a question so much as polite order.

“Yes, Mama,” May promised instantly, “I’ll come back home soon.”

“Good girl,” Mama kissed her forehead, “I love you, Mellie.”

“I love you too, Mama,” May couldn’t help but to hug her tightly once last time before they left, kissing her mom on the cheek fondly, “I’ll call you soon.”

Her mom nodded, and May headed back to Lola, where Phil was waiting patiently, watching her with a doting smile. May tried not to blush as she got into the car, but wasn’t sure how successful she was.

“I’ll see you next time, Phillip,” Mama called, “you both take care of yourselves, and each other.”

“Of course, ma’am. Thank you, again,” he replied. Mama just rolled her eyes as Phil started the car, but remained standing on the front porch with her arms folded across her chest, watching them both with a stern expression betrayed by the fondness in her eyes.

As they drove off, May watched her mom until she could no longer see her, and then finally turned around, settling back in the seat. With the wind in her hair and the sun on her skin, she felt… _real_. Perhaps her memories were false, and her identity was just programming, but this body was real and the world it was in was real. That had to count for something, right? It _had_ to.

“So?” Phil prompted her, “What did you need to ask me?”

“You mean, like where are we going to put all this food?” May muttered.

Phil chuckled quietly, “at least you won’t have to cook again for a few weeks.”

May snorted, rolling her eyes, “I did have one question. Do... do we have a friend, a woman with red hair? I think, maybe former S.H.I.E.L.D.? Close to Barton and Hill?”

“You mean Nat?” Phil replied instantly, “Natasha Romanoff?”

“Natasha Romanoff,” May echoed. It made perfect sense that that’s who it would have been. A former colleague, who had been on the Strike Team with her, Coulson, and Barton. Someone who had been ‘ _dodging’_ her, because Romanoff had been avoiding her after whatever had happened with the Avengers. Someone who’d cared for her after Bahrain, who was still caring about her now. Well, no wonder she’d been so worried that May’s last mission had been a repeat of Bahrain: she’d seen the effects of Bahrain on May firsthand.

“Do you remember her?” Phil asked hopefully, and May just shook her head.

“No, no. She was in my room this morning,” May explained, “I didn’t know who she was, but she knew me.”

“She was _what_?” Phil turned in his seat to stare at her incredulously.

“Eyes on the road,” May chided him, “yeah, she was just in my room, waiting for me. She said my mom called Hill, who called Barton, who called her. She was sorry for avoiding me.”

Phil considered that, “I guess that makes sense. Things have been pretty crazy since S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, but we’re all friends. I imagine you being missing for so long frightened them too. Not knowing is the hardest part.”

May hummed in agreement, “they care about her. Me. The Other May. Whichever.”

“They care about you,” Phil said, “we all love you so much, Melinda. Even if you don’t remember right now, and even if you can’t see them, you have so many people that care about you. You need to know that.”

“I know. And I’m glad,” May said, “that she had friends, the Other me. After Bahrain… if it was bad for me, it was worse for her. She needs to have people around her.”

“She did,” Phil assured her, “so many people, who would do anything for you. Romanoff especially.”

May smiled fondly, "she called me Chief."

"Yeah, she did call you Chief," Phil chuckled, "you were her supervising officer, when she first changed over to S.H.I.E.L.D., and she was in awe of you. That you could be everything she'd been trained to be and more. All the Red Rooms girls ended up obsessed with agents like you and Director Carter, but it was different for Romanoff. It wasn't like she'd finally found a worthy archnemesis or whatever, like Carter and Underwood. It was that she'd finally found a role model worthy of being looked up to."

May smiling to herself, hugging her arms across her chest. She'd been a role model. It didn't sound possible, but something in the matter-of-fact way Phil told the story made her believe it was true. She'd been a supervising officer and a role model. The Other May had really had a better life here. Phil turned on the stereo, and as Journey started crooning that ‘ _right down the line, it's been you and me’_ , May thought about her friends in this world, though they were strangers to her now. They still loved her. They were still looking out for her, even now. Even though it had been years since S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen, they still had each other’s backs.

“Would it be alright, if we went to visit O’Brien sometime?” May asked, watching Phil thoughtfully, “I… I don’t know him, so I don’t want to go alone. But I think I should see him. It’s not fair that the Other May just disappeared from his life and he doesn’t know why. He deserves to see her- to see me- again. Even if I don’t remember him anymore, he remembers me.”

“Sure,” Phil agreed instantly, “we can go whenever you want to. Simmons wants to check in with us once we get back though. But after that, I’m all yours.”

May’s heart skipped a beat at that, and she chided herself for being so silly. He didn’t mean it like _that_ , no matter how much she would like him to. He’d made it clear that while he’d fallen for the Other May, she hadn’t loved him back. He respected that, because he respected her. The May that she was now was some temporary thing to him, just a placeholder until he got the woman he loved back.

She just needed to hold on for a little while longer. These feelings would fade as quickly as they’d emerged, and she wouldn’t feel anything anymore towards him, except for the fond friendship they shared. All this that she was feeling now; the way she couldn’t help but smile when she saw him, the way her heart swelled with affection whenever he spoke: it would all go away. Her heart wouldn’t even break like his would when it was over, because there wouldn’t be anything in it to be broken. It would all be alright, at least for her. She stared out at the empty road, trying to focus on that, and not to think about how much her heart was breaking right now.

 

֎


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May and Phil return to the base and meet up with their old team members, with mixed results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweary Fitz makes a comeback. He's an asshole. You've been warned.

Back at the base, Simmons was quick to whisk May away to the lab for another long series of tests she didn’t understand. Lying back on the hospital bed, she tried to block out the noise of beeping machines and bickering scientists, with little success. There didn’t seem to be much progress in the memory restoration from the biochemical side of the lab: the scientists looked tired and frustrated, and it was only 10 am. May wasn’t sure if she should be upset or not.

“So,” Simmons said slowly, trying (and failing) to sound nonchalant, “any more memories?”

“I remember I don’t like this,” May grumbled, rolling her eyes.

Simmons pulled a face, “I _know_ , Agent May, but it’s necessary to track your progress.”

“Is there progress?” May asked.

“Yes,” Simmons assured her, “yes, you’re making progress, physically, at least. You should start feeling it soon as well.”

May sighed, and nodded, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to let her disbelief show. Making progress, really? How was she ever going to recover from this?

“So…” Simmons tried again, “erm… how was your trip? Coulson said you ended up spending the night at your mum's house?”

May considered that, “we did. It was… it was really nice.”

“That’s nice,” Simmons chirped, “so, um, did you get to much _reminiscing_ while you were out there?”

“I’ve still got no new memories,” May told her, if only to put her out of her misery, “just a few more… _intense_ feelings.”

“Oh, well, feelings are something!” Simmons offered, “what feelings?”

May considered that thoughtfully, not sure how much she wanted to share of her small, precious fragments of emotions.

“I remember Phil and Andrew dying,” she finally said, “how… how that made me feel.”

Simmons was silent for a long moment, as if trying to process that. May glanced over at her with a frown. Well, what more powerful memories would May have? Why was Simmons so surprised to find May had emotions anyway?

“I’m so sorry, May,” Simmons told her sincerely, “really. I… I imagine that must have been difficult for you.”

May snorted in spite of herself, “ _difficult_? Really?”

Simmons shrugged, a little helplessly, “well, wasn’t it?”

“Difficult doesn’t even begin to describe it,” May retorted, “I’m still a _person_ , Simmons. Don’t you tests tell you that I’m the human, not the robot?”

“No, no, of course,” Simmons assured her, “you’re entirely human. We have LMD detectors installed all over the base, and all your medical tests indicate that you’re the original Melinda May, at least physically, as far as we can tell. You’re entirely human now, we’re certain.”

May rolled her eyes, “that wasn’t my point.”

There was another long silence, filled only with the hum of machines and beeping of medical equipment.

“I’m sorry,” Simmons said finally, “I… I’ve never seen this side of you before. You’re normally much less vocal about your feelings.”

“I can tell,” May grumbled, “believe me, I can tell.”

Before Simmons could dig herself further into that hole, she was saved by Daisy bouncing in, grinning over at May.

“Well, look who’s back!” she declared, coming to sit on the bed, “nice vacation, Agent May?”

“Does one day away from the base count as a vacation?” May asked.

“It does for you and Coulson,” Daisy replied, shooting a knowing look at Simmons, who replied with a tight-lipped smile.

“Everything alright here?” Daisy finally asked, glancing back and forth between them.

“I feel like a very unfortunate lab rat,” May replied before Simmons could stutter out an answer, “are we almost done, or will you need _all_ of my blood?”

“Almost done, Agent May,” Simmons assured her quickly, just like she always did. May slouched back into the pillows and sighed.

“So… are you feeling any better?” Daisy asked hopefully.

May shook her head, “no, not yet. Should I be? How are Mack and the Doctor?”

Simmons and Daisy exchanged a look. Not well, then. 

“Well… I mean… Mack is doing alright,” Daisy finally said, “he’s not remembered anything, and he’s struggling with losing Hope… but having Bobbi and Hunter back seems to be helping. I think his brother is coming up soon, to check in on him.”

May hummed thoughtfully, “that’ll be good.”

“Do you think it’ll help him remember?” Daisy asked eagerly.

“No,” May replied, brutally honest as ever, “but it’ll help. It’s… it’s better not to be alone when you're like this.”

Simmons tried to look sympathetic; Daisy just settled on bewildered.

“Oh. Um. Well, you’ll always have A.C.,” Daisy offered lamely, “and um… you know. Probably others.”

“And my other friends,” May supplied, “and my family. And whatever you two are supposed to be, I suppose.”

Simmons chuckled at that, “we’re a team, Agent May.”

“And we’ll have your back,” Daisy promised, “for… whatever you need.”

“I know,” May told them, rolling her eyes, “but I don’t think I need anything.”

“Well, I mean, if you do,” Daisy offered awkwardly, “Simmons and I can do stuff too. Other than prodding you with needles, I mean.”

May started to laugh at that but stopped immediately when she saw the girls’ expressions shift to shocked.

“What?” she frowned, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” Daisy trailed off, looking at Simmons helplessly.

“It’s nothing, Agent May,” Simmons tried, shaking her head, “it’s nothing. You have a lovely laugh. We… we’ve just never heard it before.”

 

֎

 

Simmons did eventually release May, although she did leave open the possibility for more testing tomorrow. Apparently, there had been some breakthroughs with tech division at least, in their quest to understand the Darkhold technology without actually opening the book themselves. The biochemistry side of S.H.I.E.L.D. SciTech sounded jealous. May wandered the halls of the secret base absentmindedly, trying to get a sense of the space. It was old, she could tell that much, and though it looked like it had had some minor upgraded recently, for the most part, it maintained its mid-20th-century style. Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised her as she found herself outside Vault D again, but it did: why would she ever want to go back there? The Doctor was an asshole, even if he was just like her. She sighed, shaking her head. _He was just like her_ : just as lost, just as lonely, as just as subjected to Simmons and Daisy’s clumsy attempts to fix them. She pressed her key card to the lock, but this time it flashed red and buzzed angrily at her. She tried the handle in vain, but it remained stubbornly locked.

“Melinda.”

She flinched, but there was only one person at the base who called her that.

“Phillip,” she retorted, glaring up at him.

He leant against the wall next to the vault’s door, folding his arms, “you don’t even know how I know you’d come back here, do you?”

“Would you mind telling _me_?” she sighed, folding her arms, and leaning against the door, “Because even I don’t have a clue what _I’m_ doing here, let alone how _you_ know.”

“May, you need to stop this,” he told her sternly.

“Stop what?” she replied, “I don’t even know what I started!”

He shook his head, “you can’t go see Fitz. Not while you’re both… like this. It’s not safe.”

“You locked me out,” May said, stunned, “ _you locked me out_?”

“It’s for your own good,” he retorted.

“For my own good?” May repeated, blinking at him in disbelief, “what the _hell_ , Phil?”

He held up his hands defensively, “You’re getting worked up. Let’s take a breather-”

“Let’s not,” May cut him off, “why can’t I see him, Phil? Are you afraid of what he’ll do? Or what I’ll do?”

Phil was silent, and May knew it was the latter, “Melinda. I… I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust either of us,” she corrected him.

He winced, “we don’t know what else is in your brain, Melinda. We don’t know what he’s capable of, not like this. He’s clearly able to manipulate you, I… I don’t know what went down in the Framework between you too, but it was something terrible… something that scared you so much that you’re still on edge around him, even in this world. Okay? So, let’s get out of here, alright? You don’t need to see him.”

“But he needs to see me,” May replied, “Phil, don’t you get it? You may think you’re doing this _for his own good_ , or whatever the hell that’s all about, but he’s a prisoner here. He’s not your friend, and he’s not thinking of this as some rehabilitation. He thinks you’re trying to destroy him, the version of him that came out of the Framework, to turn him back into someone else.”

Phil was silent for a moment, “is that how _you_ feel?"

May hesitated, “sometimes, yes.”

 “Melinda…” Phil sighed, running his fingers through his hair, and shook his head, “it’s not like that.”

“We all know they’re capable of erasing people, they’ve done it before,” May pointed out, “they’ve done it before to _you._ You of all people should understand what could happen to us if we don’t get our memories back, or don’t get enough back, or don’t get them back fast enough. You think Simmons won’t resort to whatever they did to you to fix your mind?”

“I promise, I won’t let them do to you want they did to me,” Phil told her firmly, “I promise. No one is going to hurt you.”

“But you don’t know that,” May retorted, “you don’t _know_ that.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” he replied, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Perhaps it did seem like it to him, May supposed. She shook her head and sighed. He wasn’t going to understand. Maybe he couldn’t, maybe he just didn’t want to, but he wasn’t going to understand.

“If the only company he has is Daisy and Simmons, he’s going to be losing his mind,” May pointed out, “or, losing what little of it he had left.”

“They mean well-” Phil started.

“They may mean well, Phil, but it’s not enough to mean well,” May interrupted, “how many people go to see him? How often? How long is he just down there rambling to himself?”

Phil hesitated, “Simmons visits him often. I think Daisy, Bobbi, and Hunter all tried, but it was too much. He’s… very different now. No one is sure how to treat him.”

May just gave him a knowing look, “that’s my point exactly.”

Phil sighed, pulling a face.

“Why do you care?” he tried, “he’s been nothing but terrible. You don’t owe him anything, May. What possible reason could you have for wanting to help him?”

May shrugged, “he may be a _bad_ person, but he’s still a _person_.”

“May… I… look… ugh. Alright, fine,” Phil relented, “but I’m coming with you. We’re just going in, doing a quick check in, for _five minutes only_ , and if he does anything suspicious, I’m shutting it down. I mean it, Melinda.”

“Well, pretty much everything he does is suspicious, but alright,” May agreed reluctantly, just because it seemed like the best deal she was going to get at this point. Phil nodded, his expression somewhere between displeased and concerned, and unlocked the door.

“ _Five_ minutes,” he reminded her, and lead her down the stairs. The Doctor was lying back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He looked so much smaller than she remembered, weak and frail. Of course, he’d be starving himself, the dramatic asshole. Perhaps he’d thought that looking pathetic might win him some sympathy, or perhaps it was just another one of his tantrums. Either way, he was growing even gaunter now, turning into a skeletal version of himself. May wondered idly if that would make him more or less terrifying. Phil took the tablet that controlled the prison (probably a smart move, all things considered), and hit some buttons.

“Just running a few diagnostic tests, Fitz,” Phil said lightly.

“It’s _Doctor_ Fitz,” the Doctor snapped, not even bothering to look over at them, “and the English bitch already ran them this morning.”

May rolled her eyes. So, Simmons hadn’t made any progress there, then. Sometimes Simmons seemed as attached to the Doctor had been to Madame Hydra, but that didn’t make any sense: May couldn’t imagine the Doctor being so madly, stupidly, annoyingly in love with anyone but Ophelia.

“Hello, Doctor,” May offered, “you’re looking… _alive_ , I guess.”

“Unfortunately so. And how’s your freedom, Agent May?” he snarled, “murdered any innocent civilians lately? Or are you still hiding that part of you?”

Phil looked ready to shut the whole thing down then and there, but May just rolled her eyes.

“Why do you care? You’d be happier if they were all dead,” she retorted, falling easily into their familiar mutual loathing for each other, “how’s starving to death going? Maybe if you weren’t such a spoilt brat, it’d go faster.”

He snorted, “I see you’re putting on weight again. They trying to fatten you up for the slaughter?”

“I thought I was the slaughterer?” May countered, folding her arms. Yes, she could do this. This was easy; this was what she’d done for years. It hadn’t been real, but it still felt real. She could still draw upon it as if it had been: that had to count for something, right?

The Doctor almost chuckled to himself, “so they can’t fix you then. Fuckin’ morons. There’s no fixing this.”

“Isn’t there? “I hear there’s some magic cure coming. Magic book, magic cure,” May shrugged, “it all adds up.”

“Oh, the promised cure! It’ll fix everything in your brain so perfectly; you won’t have the capacity to question it. Not that _you_ ever did have the capacity for anything more than eliminating threats. No, I know all about this stupid cure, the English Bitch is always on about that too. _Oh, Fitz, we can fix you! Oh, Fitz, I promise I won’t rest until you’re home with me!_ " the Doctor repeated contemptuously, as he pulled a face, “only you would be so moronic to believe that, you stupid bitch.”

“Hey,” Phil growled, but May held up a hand to silence him. The Doctor sat up for that, with a sinister smile spreading across his face.

“ _Oh_. The zombie cyborg is in love with the heartless assassin,” the Doctor scoffed, “Holy Mother of God, now I’ve seen it all.”

May rolled her eyes, “the standards for your interests remain absurdly low in every world, Doctor.”

“Tell me, Agent May, have they started torturing your memories out of your brain yet?" Fitz sneered, “or is he going to fuck them out of you with _the power of love,_ like the English Bitch is planning?”

“Science really is advanced here,” May rolled her eyes, “you must be pleased. You can combine your two interests: torture and bad sex.”

“Why don’t you come in here and I’ll show your boyfriend how to do it?” Fitz purred, wild eyes locked on Phil, “what, monster? Haven’t you fucked her yet? Everyone else has.”

“That’s enough,” Phil said sternly.

The Doctor just laughed, “Oh, but he _hasn’t_! I must be dreaming this shit. You’re both as stupid as each other, truly. What’s the holdup, monster? Are you still waiting for her to end up brain dead too?”

“I thought it was _holes_ in his brain,” May interrupted, bringing his attention back to her, “now it’s brain dead? Do you believe everything that everyone tells you, or do you just make this all up?”

“They still haven’t told you a thing, have they?” the Doctor sneered, “tell me, Agent May, what have they elected to inform you about their magic cure? Have they told you the cost you’ll pay, if they can even get it to work? God knows you’ll be the guinea pig when the start experimenting. You’ll be lucky if they bring out your zombie boyfriend’s torture machine and tear your skull open-”

The Doctor was cut off mid-sentence, with the screen between the chambers turning opaque again.

“Hey!” May spun around to glare at Phil, “I wasn’t done.”

“Trust me; it was more than you might think, “Phil replied cryptically, tapping at something on the tablet, “you got more out of him than anyone else has.”

May considered that, “this is just intel, isn’t it? Just intel.”

“Something like that. In any case, that’s enough of… whatever that was,” Phil said, shaking his head, and May had to agree. Perhaps five minutes was all that normal people were designed to take of the Doctor.

“Come on,” Phil took her hand, holding her tightly as if he feared she might vanish into thin air if he wasn’t touching her, “let’s get out of here.”

“Let’s,” May agreed and squeezed his hand back. He offered her a tight-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and lead her back out of the vault.

 

֎


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May and Phil discuss who the Fitz men were in the Framework, and what to do about their current situation with the one in Vault D.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mentions domestic violence, nothing too explicit but it's strongly implied. 
> 
> Also, some swearing, if that bothers you.

Once they were out of the vault, Phil seemed to relax a little, though his expression remained clouded.

“Are you going to be alright?” May asked, frowning, “you said knew him, so you must have noticed that he’s an asshole. You can’t let him get to you.”

“He’s not like that,” Coulson shook his head, “Fitz… he’s not supposed to be like this. He doesn’t _talk_ like that. Not to anyone, especially not us.”

May shrugged, “I can’t imagine that.”

They were silent for a long moment, and Phil folded his arms across his chest, glowering at the floor.

Mays sighed, standing across from him, waiting patiently for some sort of explanation. Why would anyone be mad about Fitz being rude to someone? How different had the Other Fitz been, that this would be so shocking? Or was it just that he’d taken aim at May?

“May… what _exactly_ was your relationship like with him in the Framework?” Phil finally asked, “were… were you two…?”

“Having sex? No, of course not,” May scoffed, “not with _that_ Fitz.”

“Not with that Fitz,” Phil repeated, “you mean… his father? Alistair Fitz?”

May winced, then shook her head, “no. No, I'm not. I… it was a long time ago."

Phil frowned, watching her face carefully, “what happened?”

“What do you mean, ‘ _what happened’_?” May snapped, stepping back from him, “it was a long time ago, Phil, why do you even care?”

“What happened?” Phil repeated, eyes narrowing, “why are you so scared?”

“Stop telling me I’m scared!” May snarled, “I don’t get scared. Why would I be scared of them? They’re weak and stupid, and I could have taken them out if I wanted to.”

“Alright, alright,” Phil held up his hand defensively, “Alright, let’s take a deep breath and calm down.”

“I could have,” she muttered, folding her arms across her chest, “I could have.”

“Alright,” Phil agreed slowly, “well, why _didn’t_ you?”

“We were on the same team, why would I?” May retorted, “what? Did you forget I was Hydra too? I was Hydra, the whole time.”

“Sure, I know,” Phil nodded, pausing to consider what line of questioning to take, “and, uh… okay, so how did you two meet, you and… the Doctor? How did you meet in your world?”

May rolled her eyes, “What does it matter?”

“Just… trying to get a better understanding of the situation,” Phil offered gently, “so… did you meet at work? Socially? Was he always so… difficult?”

“I met the Doctor for the first time at his father’s house, we had dinner,” May shrugged dismissively, “he wasn’t difficult towards me then, not yet.”

“Not yet,” Phil repeated slowly, “alright. And was this before or after the Hydra uprising?”

“Not long after,” May replied, “a few years, maybe? But it was all a long time ago, so can you just drop it?”

“I will soon, okay?” Phil promised, “just… I just need to know a little more first. It’s intel, remember?”

“It’s just intel,” May repeated, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Sure. It was just intel. She’d changed sides and was selling out Leopold Fitz. That was all.

“So, you met Fitz at his father’s house, a few years into Hydra’s regime,” Phil said slowly, “had you met Alistair Fitz at that point?”

May nodded, “yes, I met him first.”

“And how did you know him?” Phil asked.

“John Garrett introduced us, he’d known him when Hydra was still in the shadows,” May replied, painfully aware of how Phil still winced every time she said Garrett’s name, “they’d both been with Hydra for a while by then. I met most people through Garrett.”

“So, you knew him at work?” Phil offered, “did you work together?”

May shook her head, “No, we never worked directly together. Alistair had seen me and wanted to know me better, so Garrett made the connection.”

“Right,” Phil paused, “he wanted to know you better… socially.”

May snorted, “sure. _Socially_ , biblically, whatever you want to call it.”

Phil winced at that, “you two were… involved? Sexually? Romantically?”

“Yes,” May waved a hand dismissively, “are you happy now? Can we all just move on? God, it was all such a long time ago, in another dimension, you shouldn’t even care.”

“I care because you’re clearly still shaken by whatever happened,” Phil replied evenly, “right now, in this world. I care about you.”

“I don’t care,” May snapped, glowering at him, “I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do,” Phil said softly, reaching out to take her hand. May flinched away and turned from him, and Phil frowned, stepping away from the wall.

“What happened?” he said again, stepping closer to her, “Melinda… did he hurt you?”

“ _Hurt me_ ,” May snorted, rolling her eyes to avoid looking at him, “like anyone could hurt _me_.”

Phil cursed under his breath, with a deep sigh, running his fingers through his hair, “Fuck. Fuck him. What did he do?”

“Why do you _care_ so damn much?” May snarled, “ _nothing_ happened, Phil, because none of it was real. Alistair Fitz probably doesn’t even exist.”

“He _hurt_ you,” Phil said softly, more to himself than to her, “that’s why you’re so scared of him. Of both of them. Fuck. Why _didn’t_ you kill them?”

“That’s just what Fitz’s do. Everyone knows that,” May shrugged dismissively, “you can’t kill a head of Hydra over your own stupidity. I made a bad call. That’s what _I_ do.”

“You think it was your _fault_?” Phil looked stunned, “Melinda… no."

“Everyone knows what they’re like,” May shook her head, “what he did to his first wife. I should have believed them… but, I was stupid, and I thought that I was different because he was so _nice_ , and _charming_ , and _funny_. Obviously, I wasn’t that different to him.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Phil said sincerely, as if he could even know if it was.

May snorted, “you weren’t there. You couldn’t know either way.”

Phil shook his head, “but I know you. Melinda-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” May hissed, “are we done here? Can we go?”

“We’re almost done,” Phil promised her, and May promised herself that she was going to punch the next person who said that to her, “what happened when it ended? You said it was a long time ago. Did you file for divorce, or…?”

May snorted, “no, we never married. I wasn’t worth that much to him, not even then.”

“How long were you two… involved?”

“Not long… almost two years,” May waved a hand, “it was nothing, and it was so long ago. It’s stupid to bring it up. I don’t _care_.”

“Then you got out, right?” Phil asked desperately, “you got out.”

“It wasn’t a prison break, Phil, settle down,” May retorted, rolling her eyes, “look, it was just a… messy sort of break up, okay? Things… _happened_ , and I moved out and tried to move on. He… he wasn’t happy about it. Neither of them were.”

“Neither… you mean Alistair and… and the Doctor,” Phil realised, “so, that’s why he doesn’t like you.”

May rolled her eyes, “ _one_ of the reasons, I guess. I don’t know what Alistair told him, about why we broke up, but I can’t imagine he painted himself in an unfavourable light. So, I was some traitorous bitch who broke his father’s heart... as if anyone so heartless could be heartbroken… anyway, after that, they didn’t take well to me seeing other people. Not at all. There was a ban on interoffice relations without the Doctor's written approval, then with civilians too, and then the _cohabitation requests_ , so they’d both always know what was going on, the nosy assholes. Alistair decided it wasn’t over, so he and the Doctor didn’t want me to move on until we’d all _worked things out_. They’d find out every time I talked to another man, and then practically interrogate them over it. They… they had _no_ right.”

“They had no right,” Phil agreed fiercely, “my God… May, I’m so sorry-”

“I don’t need your _pity_ ,” May snarled, “are we done here? Or do you need Alistair Fitz’s whole damn biography?”

“We’re done,” Phil assured her, taking a deep breath, “we’re done. But May, you know you can always talk to me, about anything, any time. You know that, right?”

“I don’t want to talk to you, or anyone else, about anything,” May snapped, “let’s just go.”

“Let’s,” Phil agreed, and they both walked back to their rooms in silence, with May keeping her distance from him this time as she silently seethed. She wasn’t _scared_ ; she didn’t get scared. How dare he tell her how she felt? Who gave him the right?

“May-” Phil started when they were standing outside her door, but she shut him down with an icy stare.

“I want to be alone, Phil,” she hissed and slammed the door behind her. It was a few moments before she heard his footsteps retreat to his room, and then she let herself lie down, lying back on her bed, and staring up at the fish shape on the ceiling.

“It wasn’t real,” she whispered to herself, as if that would make it any easier, “it wasn’t _real_.”

 

֎

 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but some time later there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“May?” Phil called, “are you awake?”

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment to compose herself before reply, “yeah. I’m awake.”

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, “you can come in.”

He opened the door slowly, watching her expression carefully as he stepped into her room.

May made sure to keep her face and voice neutral, “yes?”

“I, uh… I know things got a little heated and uncomfortable back there. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he told her gently, tilting his head to the side, “ _are_ you okay?”

May sighed, but still nodded, “Yeah, I’m okay. I just don’t like talking about it.”

“Well, I can understand that,” Phil agreed, offering her a friendly smile, “you don’t have to talk about it again, if you don’t want to.”

“I _don’t_ ,” May told him firmly, and he nodded.

“Yeah, I know,” he assured her, coming over to sit on the bed next to her, “I… I just was thinking… do you think he’ll hurt Simmons?”

May sat up a little at that, “who? The Doctor?”

Phil nodded, “yes, the Doctor. I… I know Fitz would never hurt Simmons, but I don’t know the man he’s become. Do you think he’s capable of hurting her?”

May stared at him for a long moment, “Phil. He refers to her exclusively as the English Bitch. Why would you think he _wouldn’t_ hurt her?”

“That’s what I was worried about,” Phil sighed, shaking his head. May sat up at that, crossing her legs, and reached over to rest a hand on his knee.

“Hey,” she told him gently, “look, he’s in a super advanced prison cell. Unless he escapes, he can’t hurt anyone. And I doubt he knows how to escape, or he would have already done it.”

“Unless someone lets him out,” Phil corrected her.

May narrowed her eyes at him, “look, I already told you, I’m not going to-”

“Simmons is in love with him,” Phil interrupted, “she… she can be rational about anything but Fitz. If he could almost talk you into releasing him, how is she going to hold up? Especially now that he’s sickly and starving himself.”

“She had no idea what she’s getting herself into,” May whispered, realisation dawning on her; that this poor sweet girl, who had been so kind to her, was in serious danger, “Phil, he could _kill_ her. The Doctor doesn’t know her, and if he finds out what she did to Ophelia… my God, he will tear her apart from limb to limb.”

Phil winced at that, “May, she… she thinks he’ll remember her if she tries hard enough.”

“Well, no one else has remembered anything yet,” May rolled her eyes, “what makes _him_ so special?”

Phil paused, “I don’t think it’s rational thought at this point.”

“Right. _The power of love_. I don’t think the Doctor believed that would work either,” May sighed, “he’ll kill her if he gets the chance, Phil. How can she not understand that?”

“We need to tell her,” Phil said simply, “I know you don’t want to talk about either of the Fitz’s, but she needs to know that he’s dangerous. And I don’t know if she’ll believe it, coming from just me.”

May considered refusing, to let Phil tell Simmons whatever he wanted and hope she listened to reason. Simmons wasn’t her problem, after all, May barely knew her. But then… there was one part of her that knew Simmons, the small fragments of emotion from the Other May. There was a surge of protectiveness from some forgotten part of her heart, the compelling urge to keep Simmons safe at any cost that the Other May had felt. Simmons was in love with a monster and had no idea what he was capable of. If anything bad happened to the girl, May knew would never forgive herself.

She took a deep breath, “where is she?”

 

֎

 

They found her in her room, smiling brightly when answered the door, making May’s heart ache a little with something she couldn’t quite describe.

“Agent May, Agent Coulson!” she chirped, “It's so nice to see you! Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you, Simmons,” Phil smiled weakly, as they entered. It was a pretty room, decorated with modern furniture in polished wood, accented with soft cream bedding and big lamps to brighten up the space. There were books on just about every available surface, often stacked up in messy piles around various notepads. May picked up a photo frame resting on one of the books on the nightstand, containing a photograph of Simmons and a curly-haired Doctor beaming into the camera. While Simmons hadn’t changed much, the young Doctor looked to be practically a teenager. May felt a fondness for the young man, and it stunned her for a moment: so, she had known the Other Fitz after all.

“Look, Simmons,” Phil took a deep breath, “we need to talk. About Fitz.”

“Oh?” Simmons frowned, “what about him? Is he okay?”

“Fitz is fine,” Phil assured her, “as fine as he can be when he’s like this. Come sit down.”

Simmons looked a little stunned, but nodded, sitting down on the bed next to Phil, “is everything alright, sir?”

“Jemma, I don’t think you should be around him anymore,” Phil said gently.

Simmons just blinked at him, “what? What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t think it’s safe for you to keep visiting him,” he explained slowly, “not right now. Not like this.”

“Not safe?” she looked bewildered, “of course it’s safe, Agent Coulson. Look, I put him in Vault D like Talbot _insisted_ , even though it’s pretty clearly hindering his recovery. The biggest threat is to _Fitz’s_ safety.”

“Simmons, he needs to be in there. He’s dangerous,” Phil reminded her gently.

Simmons scoffed at that, “Fitz could never be dangerous.”

May sighed, setting down the picture, “you don’t know him, Simmons. Not anymore.”

“Yes, I do!” she insisted, “I may not know his memories, but I know what kind of man he is! He’s a good person! He would never hurt anyone.”

May had to stifle the urge to roll her eyes, “I couldn’t even begin to put a number on the people’s he’s _killed_ , let alone just _hurt_.”

“It was different, in the Framework,” Simmons argued, “alright? You all did what you were programmed to do, what was programmed into you by AIDA. Fitz is innocent!”

“Simmons, you know the lab hasn’t been able to prove that there was any tampering beyond the first regret,” Phil told her, furrowing his brow ever so slightly, “you understand that, right?”

“They haven’t found anything _yet_ ,” Simmons protested, “it’s Darkhold technology, we don’t know what happened. Not yet. They’ll figure it out.”

Phil sighed, shaking his head, “even if they do prove that this version of Fitz was created by AIDA, that doesn’t change how dangerous he is now. And he is more than capable of manipulating you into doing something you’ll regret.”

“He would never!” Simmons insisted, “you remember him, Coulson! You remember Fitz?”

“I do,” Coulson assured her, “I remember Fitz, the real Fitz. And I know how horrified he would be if he ever hurt you, which is why we can’t give him the opportunity to do something he’ll regret.”

“I… I can’t just, not see him anymore,” Simmons shook her head firmly, “that’s ridiculous. He’s sick, and he _needs_ me!”

“But he doesn’t _want_ you,” May interjected, “don’t you see that?”

“You don’t even know him!” Simmons retorted, “you just think he’s a monster because that’s what AIDA tried to turn him into, but that’s not _Fitz_!”

“No, it’s not,” Phil tried, “that man is not Fitz. You need to understand that-”

“Where is this coming from?” Simmons frowned, narrowing her eyes at both of them, “what happened?”

Phil hesitated, glancing at May, “we were discussing… some of the things that happened with the Fitz’s in the Framework. The things that they… _believed_ were right, and the things that they were capable of. And we think that perhaps it’s best that you stay away from him, at least on your own.”

“I don’t need to be supervised to visit my _boyfriend_ ,” Simmons snorted, “he’s not in the Framework, he won’t do those kinds of things out here.”

“He’s still the same person he was in the Framework,” May sighed, shaking her head, “he’s a desperate and cruel man, who is locked up by his enemies.”

“Well, maybe we just need to _prove_ to him that we’re not his enemies!” Simmons offered, “right? If we’re his friends, he’ll feel so much better, and-”

“If you let him out, he’s going to kill you,” May said bluntly. That silenced Simmons for a moment, but she was quick to dismiss it.

“No, Fitz is sweet and gentle,” Simmons assured her, almost pleadingly, “he’s incapable of being violence like that, to anyone!”

“Simmons, I’ve known the Fitz’s for years,” May tried, “it’s in their nature to be cruel and violent. Maybe your Fitz wasn’t, but then this is definitely not him. I _know_ him. You are not his girlfriend; you are not his friend: you are just some woman with the _audacity_ to deny him something. He will not rest until he’s put you in your place.”

“No,” Simmons whispered, growing tearful, “ _no_. He wouldn’t. He would never hurt me.”

May’s heart broke a little at that, though she still wasn’t sure why.

“You need to listen to me. You need to hear this,” she said slowly, sitting down on the bed next to her, taking Simmons’ hands in her own, “he won’t just kill you, Simmons. He’ll torture you. He’ll destroy every part of you, and he’ll enjoy it. You can’t talk to him, not anymore. Not alone. It’s too dangerous, and I won’t let him hurt you. I… I can’t let him hurt anyone else.”

Simmons blinked back tears, silent for a moment as her lower lip quivered.

“I… I _can’t_ ,” she finally whispered, “I can’t just give up on him and leave. Not again. I can’t do it.”

With that, she began to cry: what started as a whimper quickly transformed into bitter sobbing, as her whole body shook. May was shocked for a second, then pulled Simmons into a tight embrace, letting the young woman cry into her shoulder, clinging to the fabric of May’s shirt.

“Okay. Okay, sweetheart,” May murmured, stroking her hair, “shh. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I love you so, _so_ much. I won’t let him hurt you.”

Phil watched them both, alarmed, unsure of what to do. May just continued to croon whatever reassuring words she could think of, hoping that the Other May would give her something useful, and let Simmons cry out all her tears. Eventually, they subsided into trembling and sniffling, as she loosened her grip on May but continued to rest her head on May’s shoulder.

“Okay,” May kissed the side of her head, “good girl. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Simmons nodded, and turned her head to look up at her forlornly, “I _love_ him.”

“But that doesn’t mean he won’t hurt you,” May replied gently, “no matter how much you love him. But we love you- don’t we, Phil?”

“Of course,” Phil assured her, still looking a little lost.

“And we need to keep you safe above all else,” May continued, “this… this is necessary. You need to understand that. We wouldn’t keep you from him if we didn’t think it was essential.”

Simmons didn’t reply and just took a deep breath, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“look, it won’t be for long, okay?” Phil offered helplessly, “right? How is your cure coming along?”

Simmons sniffled, “we might have one. Maybe, I-”

“Let’s try it,” May said suddenly, surprising even herself.

Phil blinked at her, “what? May… are you sure?”

She shrugged, trying to ignore the panic in her chest, “it’s worth a look.”

 

֎


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May and Phil realise the "cure" is not as simple as the thought it would be.

“It’s not really a cure,” Simmons had already started telling them before they even reached the lab, “it’s more of a potential route to restoring past memories. Cure really isn’t an appropriate word for it, really.”

May already was starting to feel sick, but nodded politely anyway. Phil, who was watching her expression carefully, offered her a friendly smile, but the news was troubling him too. In the lab, Simmons called over an Agent Waverly from the tech side of the lab, who seemed far more excited about the situation than her.

“It’s looking very promising,” Agent Waverly told them eagerly, looking pleased with himself, “After Agent Crawford gave me the files on the first version of Bahrain-”

“I didn’t!” Crawford interjected from the other side of the lab.

“Alright,” Waverly rolled his eyes, “well, _someone_ did.”

“And what did you find?” Phil asked quickly, before they could get too much into the mysterious moving files.

“We found that the past memories were deleted or written order, they were moved offline,” Waverly explained, “at first, we assumed that all the subjects had their memories rewritten in the same manner, like Agent Coulson. In that method, the false memories were rewritten on top of the old memories, which would allow the subjects to access fragments of them even in the Framework, and could eventually allow them to restore the original versions of the files. But all the other subjects’ memories weren’t kept inside their brains; the past files were transferred from the subject’s brain to Radcliffe’s personal files. They still exist, in some form. They’re just not accessible by the subjects.”

“So, that’s why they can’t remember?” Coulson asked, “because the memories are… they’re not even in their brains?”

“Not anymore,” Waverly agreed, “they were taken out to prevent interference between memories. Your brain appears to have been too fragile to allow for this to occur, so that’s why you can remember. It really is _fascinating_ , how she did it. I mean, _awful_ , but still awfully clever.”

“So… there’s…” May hesitated, trying to use her limited knowledge of technology to decode what he was trying to tell her, “there are backup copies of my memories? With Radcliffe?”

“We have all the files now,” Waverly told them confidently, “all of his old files. It’ll take a while, to decrypt them all, but it’s looking promising, that we repeat what Radcliffe and AIDA did.”

“Wait… _repeat_ it?” May echoed.

Waverly frowned, “well, sure. We’ll just take out all your current memories, and put in the last full copy Radcliffe had saved.”

May blinked at him for a second, her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach. They _were_ going to erase her. They were going to take out every part of her that made her who she was now and replace it with the Other May.

“And what was that?” Phil asked politely, “the last full copy?”

“The scans from when she died,” Waverly supplied.

“From that far back?” Phil exclaimed, "she'll lose months!"

“Hey!” Waverly said dismissively, “we’re working with what we’ve got here. The more recent files were tampered with to create the LMD memories. If we restore the memories from her kidnapping, she might end up on a Darkhold quest for Radcliffe. The safest thing we can do is to take out all her current memories and restore her from when she died. She’ll remember none of this, not the Framework, not what came after. She’ll just wake up, exactly as she was.”

“Is… is there another way?” May asked slowly, “like what happened with Phil?”

Waverly shrugged, “Uh, the only other way that looks promising is to rebuild the Theta Brain-Wave Frequency Machine, to see if we can force out any more traces of past memories that might still be lingering, but it’s unlikely that it will uncover anything-”

“No,” Phil said suddenly, “no. There… there has to be another way. We have to keep looking.”

Waverly nodded in agreement, “sure. It's unlikely that would work anyway, even if it worked on you."

“It worked on Phil?” May repeated, “I thought he got all his memories back on his own?”

“No, not this time, obviously, but from when it was used after he went crazy,” Waverly explained, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. May stared at him blankly. Simmons rolled her eyes at the ceiling, and Phil narrowed his eyes at him. Waverly shut up then, shifting uncomfortably.

“I… um… I’m going to go back to work now,” Waverly said awkwardly, “let me know if you need anything else.”

With that, he slunk off back to the tech side of the lab, leaving Simmons, Phil, and May in silence.

“Anyone want to tell me what _that’s_ about?” May asked finally.

Phil hesitated, “well. You remember how I told you about how I was brought back from the dead?”

“I do,” May agreed slowly.

“Well, I also had my memories rewritten, so I wouldn't remember how they had done it, or what they had done to me,” he explained carefully, “it wasn’t quite as sophisticated as what Radcliffe and AIDA did, but they rewrote my memories. The Theta Brain-Wave Frequency Machine was used to get back some of what I’d forgotten.”

“To _torture_ them out,” May remarked, remember what the Doctor had told them, “my God. He was right.”

“Obviously, torture is not an option!” Phil said quickly.

“Obviously,” Simmons nodded firmly.

“ _Obviously_ , it once was,” May argued, “how could they do that to you?”

Phil winced, “technically I did it to myself. Well, the second time.”

May stared at him blankly, “and they might-”

“Not to you,” Simmons assured her.

“How can you be sure?” May retorted, "it's happened before!"

“Well, they don’t think it’ll work,” Simmons offered lamely, “so, it that sense, I doubt they’ll bother. Waverly is pretty insistently that you, Mack, and Fitz don’t have your past memories available anymore, just traces of emotion. There’s no reason to bother trying it.”

May sighed, but at least she could believe that. They wouldn’t torture her, if only because they didn’t think it would work. But they were more than capable of it if they thought it necessary. That scared her. 

“They’re just going to erase me instead,” she remarked bitterly. 

“Not _erase_ you!” Simmons was quick to correct her, “they’re going to _restore_ you.”

“That’s two sides of the same coin,” May shrugged dismissively, “I get erased, the Other May gets restored.”

“May…. you and the _Other May_ are the same person,” Simmons told her gently.

“Well, it doesn’t _feel_ like it,” May argued.

“Well, it doesn’t matter what it feels like,” Simmons countered, “it’s  _science_ , May, feelings don’t matter.”

“My feelings matter to _me_ ,” May snapped. Simmons fell silent there, staring at her with an expression somewhere between morbid fascination and pity.

“Well,” Simmons said finally, “you did want a cure. This is it.”

May hesitated, “I… I don’t know if I want this. I don't know if I want to.”

Simmons stared at her blankly, “wait, what? Why wouldn’t you want to? Don’t you want to get better, May?”

May shrugged, “I don’t _know_. I guess so.”

“Well, then, this is the only way,” Simmons shrugged, a little helplessly, “I told you, it’s not a _cure_ , it a process to restore memories. And it’s all we have right now. All we might ever have, without reading the Darkhold to understand what Radcliffe and AIDA were doing.”

“Well, it’s a good start,” Phil told her, “but it’ll still need some more work.”

Simmons looked like she wanted to argue but just offered them both a tight-lipped smile instead, “sure. Some more work. We’ll keep trying.”

Phil smiled back, although it didn’t reach his eyes, “come on, May. Let’s go take a walk.”

“A walk,” May echoed blankly, “yeah. Sure.”

And so, they left Simmons to attend to whatever business she had in the lab and paced the halls in silence for a while; both lost in their own thoughts. The Doctor had been right, it seemed. About _torturing_ out memories, the cost of the cure… May sighed, shaking her head. She really had to stop torturing herself with talking to him. He was a _Fitz_ , for God’s sake. No good could come of it. They ended up outside of Vault D, and Phil started messing around with the keypad next to the door.

“We’re going to go talk to him again?” May asked, frowning. Why would he want to do that? Phil hadn't exactly enjoyed their last conversation. 

“No, I’m changing the access protocols for Vault D,” Phil explained. 

May considered that for a moment, “you’re locking Simmons out?"

“And stopping her from changing them back to let herself in again,” he agreed.

May frowned, “you still think she’ll try and see him?”

“Love makes people do stupid things,” Phil shrugged, “Okay, there. Let’s just hope she doesn’t coerce someone into changing them back for her. Daisy could probably hack her way in.”

May snorted, “undoubtedly.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Phil said finally, shaking his head, “I don’t know. We should go somewhere.”

May shrugged, “we could go see O’Brien?”

“O’Brien,” Phil repeated, “sure. The mixtape. Let’s go. It can’t be any worse than staying here.”

 

֎

 

Being back in Lola made May feel safe for some reason, though it was exposed and eye-catching and realistically the total opposite of being safe. She settled back into the passenger seat as Phil drove through a series of streets May had no memory of, wondering whether she’d driven this way before. If she thought hard enough about it, she could convince herself that she remembered- perhaps she _had_ seen that tree before, or perhaps she did know which way to turn at this corner. Except, all the parts of her that were the Other May had been entirely removed, and there was no way she could _actually_ remember those things. It was just emotions that lingered, unable to be taken out with the rest of her memories. There would be no sudden flood of memories like Phil had gotten, no magical cure that would somehow preserve her and allow the rest of the team to get their May back. _‘Stupid,’_ she inwardly grimaced at herself, because how could she have been so naïve to think it would be easy? There were always sacrifices to be made. But was she prepared to sacrifice herself, to kill off all that she was, to let everyone else get the person they wanted her to be back?

She- the Other May, really- would just wake up, like all of _this_ , all that she was now, had never happened. Sure, Phil would eventually give her little bits and pieces of what had happened in between her death and her restoration, but she’d never truly _know_. It would be like things were for May now, just like hearing stories of someone else’s life. And May- the one that she was now- would cease to exist as anything more than a file on Radcliffe’s old computers, until they too were destroyed. She would be nothing, because that’s all she really was to these people- an obstacle to be overcome on their way back to the _real_ May. She wasn’t real to them, no matter how real she felt. She was just another problem Radcliffe and AIDA had created. Her destruction would mean nothing to them, so long as they got what they wanted.

“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” May asked.

Phil didn’t even have to ask what she was talking about, “yeah. No good can come of being erased.”

May nodded, “they’re probably going to do it anyway.”

“No, they won’t,” Phil assured her, “no, they won’t. I won’t let them. Not again. Not to you.”

May smiled weakly, glad he couldn’t see how little she believed in him. Sure, he was certain now that he would let no harm come to her. But how long would that resolve last, when it sunk in that he had a chance to bring the woman that he was in love with back? Just like he had said, love makes people do _stupid_ things. And he loved the Other May so much that he was willing to put up with the creation of Radcliffe and AIDA so that he could still be around her. How stupid was he prepared to get?

“Do you think I’m real?” May asked.

“I do,” he agreed instantly.

“Just as real as the Other May?” she tried.

He paused for a long moment, “I’m starting to.”

 

֎

 

The facility that O’Brien lived at was pleasant enough. It was a normal enough looking building, surrounding by big shady trees, close to a beautiful park. It was on the outskirts of the city: close enough that it was technically accessible by civilians, but not so close they might accidentally stumble upon it. That was where S.H.I.E.L.D. worked best, after all. Close, but not too close.

Inside, they were created by a cheerful man who checked their lanyards and let them through to the _living quarters_.

“So, how is O’Brien?” May asked.

“He’s doing alright,” the agent assured her, “we were kind of worried about him, you know with how he freaked out when you last visited, but he seems to have bounced back mostly. He’s a happy camper for the most part, but wow. He was pretty upset for a few days after that.”

“Right,” May nodded absently, glancing around in vain to see if there was something she did know.

“I mean, Billy thinks it was probably the LMD… oh, damn it. Right. You don’t remember that. Right. Um, I’m Agent Jamie Koenig,” the man introduced himself, “I heard… you know, about what happened. Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Sure,” May agreed, even though she had no idea what he was talking about, “pretty crazy.”

“But like, _fully functional LMDs_! That’s so cool!” Koenig exclaimed, then cleared his throat, “I mean… very serious. Very bad. Pretty, uh, demanding situation, what with the magic and the robots and everything. Very uncool.”

Phil chuckled, “well, it’s over now, Agent Koenig.”

“So, like… all the LMDs are gone?” Koenig asked hopefully, “there are none left to, say, examine the hardware and such? Compare to the first LMD program?”

“Afraid not,” Phil replied, “the only one left is the last few pieces of AIDA’s final body, and they’re set to be destroyed any day down.”

“Damn it,” Agent Koenig sighed, then shook his head, “I mean, uhh... that’s probably what’s best. You know, for safety reasons. Makes total sense.”

“So, O’Brien,” May reminded them, because she couldn’t care less about the robots now that they were basically all gone.

“Right. Well, normally he’s super excited whenever you come to visit, but last time, he didn’t even recognise you when you came in,” Koenig frowned, “and he wouldn’t talk to you, wouldn’t go near you, didn’t want anything to do with you. None of the Primitives did, and they normally love you. Just kept waiting for you to come, even though you were already there. It was like he’d completely forgotten you.”

“How is that possible?” May frowned.

“There are a few theories,” Koenig explained, “all centred around the fact that it probably wasn’t _you_ that came to visit, it was the LMD version of you. So-”

“The infrared vision,” Phil said suddenly.

“Bingo,” Koenig nodded, “even though the LMD May looked identical to us, he could tell they were different.”

May nodded as he led them out the backdoor, trying to make sense of it. So, O’Brien had been the only one to notice that the LMD May wasn’t the real May? He’d known that _thing_ wasn’t really her, and he’d rejected it emphatically. Would he do the same to her? Would he be able to tell that she wasn’t _his_ May, and refuse to have anything to do with her? Did he even still remember May at this point? It had been so long since he’d last seen her, and God only knew how much of the man was left after Radcliffe had finished with him. May knew all too well how terrible and permanently scarring Radcliffe’s experiments could be.

There was a large yard behind the building, with a huge lawn, big shady trees, a greenhouse, and a few gardens around the edges. May smiled in spite of herself: sure, S.H.I.E.L.D. screwed up a lot of things, but they took care of their own, even the agents that hadn’t died as legends, but had come home broken beyond repair. They had a beautiful home for them, a small piece of paradise, to keep them safe and make sure the rest of their lives weren’t as tragic as how they ended up there. That, at least, was something S.H.I.E.L.D. had always done better than Hydra. There were a few people outside, patients of the facility enjoying the summer sun and tending to the plants, with a handful of attendants scattered between them, in their S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms and lanyards.

“There’s O’Brien,” Koenig pointed to one that was being guided through watering a bed of flowers by one of the attendants. May almost winced to look at him: she knew that Radcliffe’s experiment had been brutal, because that was what Radcliffe did, but seeing it in person was horrifying. O’Brien’s skin was scarred and twisted, stretched across his features like it had almost been melted off, though there were patches of soft, downy dark hair starting to come through on his head. God, what had happened to him? What the hell had Radcliffe done? He had sunken black eyes, like some horror movie monster, but they lit up when he saw her and came bounding over, mouth twisting into a lopsided smile. Not a monster, she told herself, a friend. In spite of what he looked like, this was not a monster at all, but someone that the Other May had loved very much.

“May!” O’Brien shouted as he threw his arms around her nearly bowling her over.

“Oh, hello!” May exclaimed, trying to keep her balance, “hello! I’m sorry, it’s been a while. How are you?”

“May!” he said again, hugging her tightly, “May!”

“Yes, it is May, isn’t it?” Koenig agreed brightly, “she came back to visit you. Isn’t that nice?”

“It’s May!” O’Brien told him cheerfully, and May’s heart ached at how delighted he sounded. He had missed her then; he must have. He was so pleased to see her, he’d waited so long to see his friend again, and she didn’t even know who he was.

“And look, Agent Coulson is here too!” Koenig tried, but O’Brien didn’t really seem to care.

“Wow, I’m hurt, O’Brien. I thought we were closer than that,” Phil rolled his eyes, but there was no heat to it. He just smiled at O’Brien fondly, trying to conceal whatever sadness he also felt. May felt it too, though she couldn’t quite describe what the ache in her chest meant. It wasn’t _pity_ , not really, because she could never pity someone she loved so much. It was more of a mourning of what O’Brien would never be, of what he _deserved_ to be but had been stolen from him by Radcliffe.

“Look, see,” May pulled the cassette out of her pocket, holding it up for O’Brien to see, “I brought you a present. Music. You like music, don’t you?”

He took it from her, deliberately and carefully with his unsteady hands, turning the tape over in his hands and running his fingers along the edges. He beamed at May, babbling gibberish excitedly, nodding. May took that to mean he knew what it was.

“See, it’s another mixtape,” she explained, just in case, “this is one you made for me, a long time ago. I thought you might like it.”

“What do we say?” Koenig prompted O’Brien sternly.

“Thank you, May,” O’Brien slurred, holding the cassette tightly to his chest. May’s heart ached a little at that, and she cupped his face in her hands, kissing his forehead lightly.

“You’re welcome, O’Brien,” she told him, “you’re welcome. How about we listen to it together?”

 

֎


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the stress of her impending decision begins to weigh down on her, May and Phil discuss his experience with being erased.

May had always thought you could tell a lot about someone from where they lived. In O’Brien’s room, though it still bore some markings of the facility he lived in, with the various monitors and the clinical smell of being regularly scoured with something anti-bacterial, it was far more inviting than she had expected. The walls were lined with photographs of Agent O’Brien (both from before and after Radcliffe’s attack), posing with various friends and family. He had plenty of well-worn picture books, soft stuffed animals, and colourful crocheted blankets. There were rainbow-coloured sheer curtains that cast stripes of colourful light across the room, flooding the room with personality. It was a beautiful room for someone well loved, and that made May feel a little better about the situation. He wasn’t alone, though she’d missed him for a few weeks. He had people around to love him.

O’Brien was quick to find his cassette player, carefully hitting the right button to open it and place the last tape gently on the table. Though his fine motor skills seemed to be virtually non-existent, what he lacked in innate ability he made up for in determination. Once he’d managed to make the cassette play, he hopped up onto the bed, motioning impatiently for May to join him. She crossed the room, sitting cross-legged across from him, offering him a weak smile.

“See, Elvis?” she offered, “we like him, don’t we?”

“Sing,” he prompted her, taking her hands clumsily in his own, “Sing!”

“Alright, alright,” May agreed reluctantly, “let’s sing together, alright?”

He nodded, babbling along wordlessly to the song, and bobbing his head in time with the rhythm. May rolled her eyes, but joined in with the actual lyrics, earning herself an enthusiastic cheer and toothy smile from O’Brien that warmed her aching heart.

 

֎

 

An hour or so later, May’s voice ached from overuse and her mouth almost hurt from smiling, but she didn’t care. O’Brien’s giddiness was contagious, and they both groaned with disappointment when the cassette reached the end. O’Brien unsteadily got up and went back to the cassette player, furrowing his brow in concentration as he set it to rewind the tape.

“I missed you,” May told him, because she was sure it was true. Even though she’d never met him, the Other May must have missed him, and whatever was left of her inside May’s head was delighted to be back with him again.

“I missed you!” O’Brien replied enthusiastically as he turned back around, “I missed you!”

“I know you did,” May agreed, “I’m sorry I was gone for so long. How are you?”

“How’re you,” he replied with a sunny smile, and May’s heart sank a little. He understood her a little, but not much. Though she didn’t know how badly he had started off after Radcliffe had finished with him, it was clear he was far from restored. He seemed to notice the shift in May’s expression and frowned, dark eyes growing concerned.

“Sad?” he asked thoughtfully, because that at least was something he could understand.

May nodded, offering him a weak smile, “I’m just a little sad, O’Brien, but I’m okay, really.”

“Sad,” he repeated with a knowing nod, coming to sit next to her, “a little sad.”

“Yeah, a little sad,” May agreed, “do… do you remember how you got here? Do you know what happened to you, what Radcliffe did?”

O’Brien matched her serious expression, but he didn’t have an answer, and just rubbing her arm reassuringly, “it’s okay. Don’t be sad.”

May sighed, “he… he did something bad to me too. Not… not as bad as what happened to you, but something still very bad. That’s what I’m sad about.”

“Don’t be sad,” O’Brien repeated sincerely.

May sighed, “it’s okay to be sad sometimes, O’Brien. I’m okay.”

He nodded but his face was still blank, and May hated Radcliffe a little more for that. How could they have trusted him again after this? She was a little pleased with the Other May for refusing to, for seeing what that terrible man had done to her friend and refusing to get over it. How could anyone see O’Brien like this and think the person who did it wasn’t capable of awful things? If anything, the murderous robot was less cruel.

“I’m actually a little scared,” May admitted quietly, because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d said that aloud before, “of what will come next. I know it could be worse, but that doesn’t make it any better.”

“Better?” O’Brien asked hopefully, tilting his head to the side.

May smiled in spite of herself, “yes. I feel better now. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” O’Brien nodded and pulled her into a tight hug. May held him back just as tightly, holding on for a moment longer than he did, and matching his bright smile when they pulled apart.

“You’re a very good friend,” May told him.

“It’s one dull flight,” O’Brien told her with a shrug, looking at her hopefully.

“Well, I don’t know what that means, but thank you anyway,” May kissed his cheek, “let’s go see what Phil is up to, alright?”

“Alright!” he echoed with a bright smile, taking her hand as they left the room together. It didn’t take long to find Phil engaged in quiet conversation with another of the primitive inhumans, nodding along politely as the former agent babbled wordlessly and gesticulated wildly. Phil glanced up at the two of them with a smile, and the two inhumans nodded to each other.

“Good afternoon?” Phil asked.

“Oh, yes,” May agreed, “we had a nice time, didn’t we, O’Brien?”

“Oh, yes,” O’Brien echoed, nodded emphatically.

“Well, that’s good. We should probably be heading home soon. Thank you, Agent Marshall,” Phil said as he stood up, and shook his hand firmly, “it’s been a pleasure seeing you again.”

“Thank you,” Agent Marshall echoed, nodding seriously.

“I’ll see you next time, alright?” May told O’Brien, taking his hands in her own, “I’ll come back to visit again really soon.”

“See you,” O’Brien echoed blankly, frowning, “I’ll see you.”

“That’s right,” May agreed, “

“Bye, May!” Marshall called, nodding to her as well, “Goodbye, May. Bye.”

May smiled in spite of herself, “Goodbye, Agent Marshall. I’ll see you next time too.”

“Bye?” O’Brien’s eyes widened in horror, “No! No, no, no!”

“Oh, it’s okay, it’s okay!” May assured him, but he had already started to cry, “no, it’s okay! I’ll be back soon, I promise!”

“No!” O’Brien whined tearfully, shaking his head, “No, May! No!”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” May pulled him into a hug, letting him cling to her tightly and sob into her shoulder. Her heart broke a little at that, as Phil stepped into the hallway and called out for Agent Koenig.

“No! No,” O’Brien wept, “May!”

“I’ll be back soon,” May tried helplessly, “I’ll come by to see you as soon as I can, but I can’t stay here forever. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Okay, buddy, you’re alright,” Agent Koenig appeared, gently detaching O’Brien from May. O’Brien struggled against him, still sobbing, still reaching out for her.

“I’m sorry,” May told them all tearfully, “I… I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, shh,” Phil put an arm around her shoulder, gently guiding her from the room, “it’s not your fault. He just doesn’t understand.”

In the hallway, May crumpled against a wall as the sound of O’Brien’s heartbroken screeching and crying echoed around them, holding her head in her hands.

“Oh, God, what have I done?” she whimpered, “what have I done to him?”

“You haven’t done anything, Melinda, it’s alright,” Phil pulled her into a hug, and let her cry into his shoulder, “you’ll come back to see him again soon. He just needs to get used to you come and going again. It’s been a while for him, and it’s very confusing. You understand that, don’t you?”

She shook her head, “I _hurt_ him.”

“No, no, you didn’t,” Phil assured her, stroking her hair, “this wasn’t you. This wasn’t your doing. He just doesn’t remember that you come back.”

“Because I didn’t!” May exclaimed, clinging to the fabric of his shirt.

“You didn’t because you couldn’t,” Phil reminded her gently, “But you came back for him as soon as you could. Even though you didn’t remember him anymore. You still came back. Everything is going to be alright. It’s just going to take a little time.”

 

֎

 

May was still tearful on the car ride home, though Phil continued to assure her that it wasn’t her fault.

“It’ll just take a little more time,” Phil told her again, “it did when he first moved there. It just takes him a little bit of time to figure out that you come back every time you leave. It’ll be hard for the next few times, but he’ll get the hang of it again. You’ll see.”

May nodded, though she didn’t believe him, “God… he was so upset, Phil. I did that.”

“ _Radcliffe_ did that,” Phil corrected her instantly, “Radcliffe took you away from him. It wasn’t your choice. You fought to come home, for people like O’Brien, people who love you.”

“He needs me,” May said, then shook her head, “he needs _her_.”

Phil was silent for a moment, “I doubt he can tell the difference, May.”

“I don’t know him,” May argued, “how am I supposed to help him like this? He needs the Other May back, Phil. We can’t both be like this, broken things that Radcliffe tore apart.”

“Melinda, don’t,” Phil sighed.

May glared at him, “don’t what?”

“Don’t wipe your brain because you think it’ll help O’Brien,” Phil retorted, “this is very serious, Melinda. You have to take this seriously.”

May snorted, “I am taking it seriously. Though, I can’t imagine it matters. Everyone _expects_ me to do it, regardless of what I think.”

“You don’t have to be the person that everyone else expects you to be,” Phil replied, “you can be whoever you want to be. You _should_ be what _you_ want. Don’t worry about everyone else.”

“Don’t _you_ want me to?” May countered, “someone has to trial the cure.”

He sighed, “it’s my fault.”

“This too, huh? I can’t wait to hear how you reasoned this,” May rolled her eyes.

“Waverly got the memory chip because I put it on the wrong desk,” Phil explained, “that’s what he was talking about. If he’d never found it, then perhaps they wouldn’t have taken this path at all.”

“If I did take it, you wouldn’t have put it back,” May shrugged, “they probably would have figured it out eventually, between all of them. They’re taking daily brain scans of me, Mack, and the Doctor. They’ll be able to map how many memories we have left and how many are missing sooner or later. They would have figured it out, Phil. You just sped it up.”

“Maybe, if you had of had a little more time, you could have remembered on your own?” Phil tried.

May sighed, “from the sounds of things; there aren’t many memories left in my head to remember. They’re all on Radcliffe’s computer, remember? I can’t remember memories that aren’t in my head anymore. The only way to put them back in-”

“Is to take out everything you are now,” Phil finished for her, “I know. It’s… it’s a terrible thing for him to suggest. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

May rolled her eyes, “I’ve heard far more terrible things, believe me. Do you always feel so guilty about everything, or am I a special case?”

Phil smiled a little at that, “you’re special to me. And I’ve had a lot of brooding time recently, I guess.”

May snorted, shaking her head, “well, find a hobby. Go back to making soap or something; I don’t know. I don’t need you to worry about me; I do enough of that to myself.”

“I won’t let them erase you,” Phil vowed, “I won’t. I remember how awful it was for me. I won’t let you go through that. No one else, never again.”

“What happened?” May asked, “when they took your memories?”

“I didn’t know that they’d done it at first,” he admitted, “which, makes sense, I suppose. Why wipe someone’s memory, but keep the memory of it being wiped away? Anyway, I died, then woke up in Tahiti. I don’t know which memories of Tahiti were fake and which were real; maybe I didn’t wake up in Tahiti at all, no one ever told me how much was fabricated. But at some point, I woke up, with no memories of death or dying, but still the feeling of being somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else?” May echoed.

“Somewhere beyond this world,” Phil explained, “I wasn’t _here_ anymore, I was _there_. Wherever _there_ is, I don’t know. I can’t really explain it. It was… it was something else. They told me I’d only been dead for a few seconds, but I knew it was longer than that. But, I accepted the lies they told me, and tried to go on with my life, tried to ignore that nagging feeling that I had forgotten something important. You know that feeling you get, when something just isn’t right?”

“Sure,” May agreed, “I get it all the time. Normally, it means someone’s about to shoot at you.”

Phil chuckled a little that that, “yeah, that’s what it normally means for me too. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t. Fury offered me a new assignment: a mobile command unit centred around taking down a cyber-hacking group, the Rising Tide.”

“The one Skye was in?” May asked, “Your Daisy Johnson?”

Phil nodded, “she was still Skye then too. That’s how we met her.”

“This was the team we were on, with FitzSimmons and Ward,” May remarked, “that was after you died? That’s why I got back into the field?”

“You wanted to have my back,” Phil smiled fondly, “as soon as I saw the assignment, I thought of you. You’d been doing a lot better; I thought it would be a gentle re-introduction to the big leagues, for both of us. It… it wasn’t as _gentle_ as I might have liked, but we both did alright. You were reluctant to go back into field work, after what happened on your last combat mission, but you found your way. It was good to have you there, by my side. It helped, as much as I could be helped. But you knew something was troubling me, even if I couldn’t tell you want it was.”

“Did I know how long you’d been dead for?” May asked.

“I think so,” Phil paused, “you had read my death and recovery report before I did, though I’m not sure how long before. Eventually, I started piecing it all together. My death, my revival. What they had done to me. It hurt, to know what had happened. I remembered how much it had hurt me to be erased, how terrified I was, how angry I had been, how _painful_ it was… I… I was so scared of what had happened to me, of what I’d become. I didn’t tell you that I knew, but I think you knew when I’d found out. You always had a way with that sort of thing. Then, things got worse.”

“Worse?” May echoed, “worse than getting killed and brainwashed?”

“Hydra came out of the shadows,” Phil said slowly, “and I… I thought you were one of them.”

“Was I?” May asked, “here? Was I Hydra here too?”

“No, no,” Phil assured her quickly, “it was a… misunderstanding. I found out you were reporting on me behind my back to someone, and I assumed it was Hydra.”

May frowned, “and it wasn’t?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “you were reporting to Nick Fury, who was the Director at the time. The drug that they used to revive me, it has side effects. People… I mean, they go insane. In a lot of different ways, but it’s intense. You were assigned to watch over me, to keep me safe and try and fix me if anything went wrong, like it did with the other patients.”

“They were scared that you would too?” May asked, “go insane?”

“I think I already had,” Phil admitted quietly, “before they wiped my memories. I think I had already gone mad, and it was just their last hope to try and fix me.”

May was silent, considering that carefully, “Simmons was testing that drug, the GH whatever, to be used on us.”

“I won’t let her,” Phil said instantly, “no way. No one should ever have that put in them again.”

May nodded, “is that what erased you?”

“No, it was a machine,” Phil explained, “a terrible, terrible machine. They had to keep me conscious throughout the procedure. It was… hellish. It still makes me feel sick to even think about it.”

“Do you regret it?” May asked. Phil was silent for a moment.

“I’ve made my peace with it,” he finally admitted, “I… I don’t know. It’s a lot to take in. There’s a lot to deal with. I’m glad that I came back, but I don’t like how it was done. I don’t like that I was lied to. I don’t like that I didn’t have a choice. And I won’t let them do that to you. No matter what, no matter how much SciTech wants to erase you, I won’t let them. No matter what.”

“No matter what,” May echoed, and nodded, “Thank you, Phil.”

He glanced over at her for a moment to offer her a weak smile, before turning his attention back to the road. May considered that thoughtfully, not quite sure what to make of it. He had been through hell and back to be here right now, and while she was grateful that she had him, she wasn’t sure if it had been the right call. Having his memories tortured out of him… what if she’d been involved with that? How could she live with herself if she had?

She shook her head. It was too late to fix things for Coulson, but there was still time for her. She could refuse, she could tell Simmons that she wanted to stay as she was now. She could stay like this forever, a rogue piece of code that had assumed a body in the real world, and spend the rest of her life trying to fit into the Other May’s life. But what if she _did_ want it? What if she wanted to be the Other May?

“Phil,” May said slowly, “do you think… do you think that you could you ever love me like you love her? Even if I stayed like this, without her memories? Could you live with that? Would you still love her, if she was just me?”

Phil smiled, and reached over to squeeze her hand, “don’t worry, Melinda. I already do.”

 

֎


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May speaks with some former friends, and comes to a decision.

Back at the base, May didn’t feel any more at peace with what had happened. Instead, she felt more uneasy, as if she were sneaking into enemy territory. How long would it take for that feeling to fade away? How long would it take for her to accept that this was her life now? There was no Triskelion to retreat to, no backup coming to help: she was an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. again, even if it wasn’t her choice this time. Even if she wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to be anymore.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s home.”

A British man stepped out of the shadows, arms folded as he stepped in front of them to block their path out of the garage. Instinctively, May positioned herself between Phil and the stranger, hands curling into fists, ready to fight. The stranger just looked bemused.

“I thought we were cool again?” he asked, “What have I done this time?”

May furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of that, “wait, what?”

“May, this is Lance Hunter, a former agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., you know him,” Phil told her gently, “he’s a friend. You don’t want to fight him.”

“Well, we don’t know that!” Lance Hunter offered with a grin, “it’s _May_ , she might.”

May sighed, stepping away from Phil and frowning at the newcomer. Another friend?

“It’s nice to meet you,” May offered, because that seemed like the right thing to say.

Hunter looked bewildered, “It’s _nice_ to meet _me_? Bloody hell… She really doesn’t remember us? Bob said she didn’t know her name, but remembered that she missed her. Did you miss me, May?”

“I don’t remember if I _missed_ you, but I still might want to _fight_ you,” May narrowed her eyes at him.

Hunter laughed, “that sounds like the old May to me. Whoa, for a minute there I thought we might actually have a normal, human connection. Thank God we avoided _that_.”

May just stared at him, not sure if he was joking or deadly serious. Who the hell was this guy?

“Thank God,” she echoed, a little half-heartedly.

“So, Hydra, huh?” Hunter remarked, “I knew you were a little crazy, but wow, what kind of crazy fantasy is that?”

“Not a _fantasy_ , Hunter, we’ve been over this,” Phil rolled his eyes, “it was a simulation designed to keep everyone too busy to find a way out of the Framework. It was a nightmare, for everyone. Even May and Fitz.”

“Sure, whatever,” Hunter clapped his hands together, “so, listen, May, I’m going to need a whole lot more details on the whole Fantasy Hydra Commander thing, starting with-”

“Starting with nothing,” Phil cut him off, “there’s nothing to discuss, Hunter. Shouldn’t you be doing inventory?”

“Well!” Hunter scoffed, “sure… but hey, how can I start without Lola? Arguably the most important item in the inventory.”

“Arguably not even on the inventory list,” Phil corrected him, “ _Go_. And only American sevens this time, Hunter, you know how Koenig feels about the European ones.”

Hunter rolled his eyes, “sure thing, Boss. No little lines. Leave you all to figure out if they’re ones or sevens, I don’t care.”

“Then you can deal with Koenig about your poor handwriting later,” Phil retorted, “but leave May alone about the Hydra thing.”

“ _Fine_. But, hey, for what it’s worth, May, I think you’re perfectly scary either way,” Hunter offered affectionately, “Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D., you’re terrifying.”

May blinked at him for a moment, “Um. Okay, then.”

“Oh my _God_ , Hunter,” Phil groaned, “just go!”

Hunter picked up his clipboard with a dramatic sigh, saluting both of them, “Yes, sir! Goodnight, mum.”

He marched off without waiting for a response, leaving May feeling bewildered and Phil rolling his eyes at his antics.

“He means well,” Phil assured her, as they continued back to their room, “he’s just… Hunter.”

“Sure,” May agreed, “he’s a little weird. Are you sure we’re friends?”

“Colleagues,” Phil amended, “but you’re fonder of him than you let on.”

“Right,” May nodded, “I suppose I’m like that with everyone?”

“Pretty much,” Phil agreed, “you’ve got an excellent poker face.”

“Do I? I’ve never cared for poker,” May remarked.

“You don’t?” Phil looked a little stunned, “not even a little bit?”

May shrugged, “ _should_ I like it?”

Phil hesitated, “I… I don’t know. I always just assumed you did.”

“Perhaps that’s just my good poker face,” May offered with a weak smile, “so… why can’t we talk about Hydra?”

Phil hesitated, “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Why not?” May pressed him, “what are you not telling me?”

“It’s nothing!” Phil tried, then shook his head, “look, it’s not the best idea for you to be talking to people about Hydra. Not after what they did in this world. Not… what you did for _them_ in the Framework. It might make some people… uneasy. It’s better just to avoid it altogether.”

“Why? You think they’ll lock me up like they did with the Doctor?” May asked.

“No, no! Of course not!” Phil assured her, but he didn’t sound quite certain, “they would never! I… I wouldn’t let them. Not in a million years.”

“Not even if I was dangerous?” May challenged him.

He hesitated, “you’re not. You’re not like the Doctor, May. You changed your mind in the Framework. He’s still loyal to Hydra, even now. I know you’re not, but, sometimes the way you talk about Hydra… it’s probably best if you don’t talk about it to other people. They might not understand.”

May considered that for a moment, “they’ll lock me up too. If I talk too much, they’ll lock me up too.”

“No, no,” Phil shook his head, “there are just some people who might not understand. If anything like that does happen, I’ll handle it. But it’s best not to let it get that far, isn’t it? It’s easiest for everyone if we just avoid the problem altogether.”

“Sure,” May agreed slowly, “that makes sense, I guess.”

“I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Phil told her, “no matter what happens, I’ll take care of you.”

In spite of those assurances, May still flinched when Daisy approached them. In spite of the young woman’s bright smile and assurances that they were close friends, she was still a virtual stranger to May now. How could she possibly trust her? Would she report her to S.H.I.E.L.D. for being a subversive if she spoke a little too fondly of her time with Hydra? Or would she just dismiss it as easily as Phil had?

“So, what did you two do?” Daisy asked, with a mischievous grin.

“Do?” May asked, frowning, “about what?”

“Simmons is cursing about you two in the lab,” Daisy explained, looking delighted for some reason, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so mad! What did you do? Spare no detail.”

It was a few moments before May remembered what they had done to upset Simmons, followed by the sinking realisation that Simmons must have gone to see Fitz within a few _hours_ of promising them that she wouldn’t!

Phil grimaced, “ _Oh_. That didn’t take her as long as I’d hoped.”

May sighed, “I told you-”

“I know, I know,” Phil interrupted, shaking his head, “I’ll take care of it.”

He offered May a tight-lipped smile, and she just rolled her eyes in response.

“I told you,” she muttered, shaking her head.

He sighed, “Yeah, I know you did. It’s fine, I’ll take care of it. You and Daisy can… catch up, or something. It’s fine, I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, you’ll take care of it,” May snorted, “sure. Call me when it all goes to hell.”

Phil and Daisy exchanged a knowing smile.

Phil leant over to kiss her cheek lightly, “sure, May. I guess I’ll be back soon, then.”

“I’ll take you home,” Daisy offered.

“Oh? You know where I live now?” May remarked but followed her anyway, “I suppose we must be closer now, then.”

“Sorry about that,” Daisy grimaced, “I… you like your space, you know? We just wanted to respect that.”

“Respect that. Right,” May agreed, because that did make sense, in an odd sort of way. Simmons and Daisy were supposed to look up to her and Phil, like parents. Perhaps this was just another aspect of the power imbalance between them, that Phil and May were given ample amount of privacy to live their own lives, but still held an important position in the girls’ lives. She’d never been anyone’s mother before, although she might have liked to have been. Perhaps this was just another part of it.

“It’s just a little strange, but I’m getting much better at piecing it all together,” May offered, hoping that made things a little better, “your world’s May had quite a different life, but I can understand her sometimes.”

“That’s good!” Daisy enthused, “that’s good, right?”

“Sure,” May agreed, “like with us. That we’re friends, but we’re not _really_ friends.”

“Wait, we’re not?” Daisy frowned.

“You see, I didn’t understand it before, but I do now,” May told her wisely, “I’m your mom.”

Daisy blinked at her, “Yeah, I’m still not sure you understand it.”

“Phil explained it,” May waved a hand dismissively, “that we’re like your parents here.”

Daisy considered that, “I mean… did he really say that?”

“That’s how we can still be close, even though neither of you seem to know anything about me,” May persisted, “isn’t that right?”

“Well... I mean, _yeah_ ,” Daisy agreed slowly, “I’ve never thought about it like that. I did kind of have a dream once… actually, you know what, that’s not important, let’s not do that. I just… I didn’t realise you two thought like that too.”

“It’s the only way it makes sense,” May shrugged, “what else could it be?”

Daisy smiled a little at that, “I guess you’re right. What else could it be?”

“I don’t know how she did it,” May shook her head, “trying to still love you must be the most painful thing in the world for her.”

“Wait, what?” Daisy looked alarmed, and quickly shook her head, “why would you say that? What’s wrong with me?”

May blinked at her, surprised, “well, you’re an inhuman. How could the Other May even tolerate being around an inhuman, let alone trying to love one? I could never have done it. Not for you, or for Andrew. Not after Cambridge. After what happened in Bahrain here… no. How could she?”

“She could!” Daisy argued, “it’s… I’m still a person. Inhumans are still people, May.”

“Every terrible thing that happened to this world’s Melinda May was the direct result of an inhuman,” May waved a hand dismissively, “how can you expect her to just ignore that?”

“Because she _has_ to!” Daisy protested, growing more hysterical, “she has to!”

“After what happened in Bahrain, after what happened with Andrew… how could she pretend like inhumans are just like other people, knowing exactly what they’re capable of?” May pointed out, “how can she just… how could _anyone_ overlook that?”

“Well, May’s not like other people!” Daisy protested.

May rolled her eyes, “she’s still a _person_. A person who experiences emotions, even if you don’t see them. Emotions like fear, even if no one sees it.”

“Emotions like _fear_?” Daisy echoed, “no. No. May doesn’t get scared. Not ever.”

“Everyone has to be scared of something,” May shrugged, “even if they don’t show it. Even if they’re too _scared_ to show it.”

Daisy was silent there, expression somewhere between shock and horror. May couldn’t understand it: why wouldn’t the Other May feel fear? Did they really think she was so far removed from emotions that she couldn’t get scared? How far beneath the surface had she kept her emotions? She shook her head and sighed. Every time she thought she was coming closer to understanding the Other May, she seemed to hit another roadblock. As much as Phil assured her that they were so very similar, May knew it wasn’t true. Sure, there were some superficial similarities born from identical childhoods, but they had grown up to be two very different people. How could she possibly fit into the life of someone she was so different from? How much of herself was she going to have to hide? Worse, how much had the Other May been hiding, that she was yet to find?

 

֎

 

Daisy remained silent for the rest of the walk back to May’s room, which May supposed was a blessing. She still wasn’t sure what to do about her, where Skye ended and Daisy Johnson started, all mixed with her being an inhuman. It was better to keep her distance, like Phil said. Who knew what Daisy Johnson was capable of? In her room, alone, May was safe- or, as safe as she could be in this foreign world, living in an enemy base.

There was a knock on her door, but not the increasingly familiar knock of Phil Coulson. With nowhere to go, May briefing considered locking herself in the bathroom and waiting for Phil to return from whatever explanation he was giving to Simmons, but chided herself for being so cowardly. Everyone in the base was supposed to be her friend. She had nothing to be afraid of.

“It’s all in your head, Melinda,” May muttered to herself, as if that would make it any less scary, and threw the door open to find Alphonso Mackenzie standing there awkwardly, looking down at her nervously. May surveyed him for a second, pleased that he seemed to be more afraid of her than she was of him. She nodded at him in acknowledgement but didn’t make any move towards him. How could she? He remembered her as she truly was: a Hydra Commander and his interrogator, not whoever the people of this world remembered her as. In the end, Mack decided to clear his throat instead and stepped into the room.

“So…” he remarked slowly, “you want to talk? About the _cure_?”

Ah. So, Mack knew about that then. It made sense, May supposed: the scientists needed a test subject and were left with three options: Fitz, who would never accept it; May, who had declined for now; and Mack. Three options, but so far it seemed none had taken the bait.

May hesitated, “Yeah, we should probably talk about it. What have they told you so far?”

“That my memories aren’t buried, they’re _gone_ ,” Mack shook his head in disbelief, “and that they need to wipe away all my Framework memories to restore the old ones, of my life here. And they want to run the first trial soon, to see if it’ll work.”

“What they _need_ is someone to test it to see if it’ll work on the Doctor,” May corrected him, because wasn’t that Simmons primary goal in the end? Turning the Doctor into some wonderful man again?

“Right,” Mack agreed slowly, “the Doctor. So, it’s down to you and me.”

“That’s right. It’s down to you and me,” May echoed, and shook her head, “how do you feel about it all? About being wiped away and rewritten? It’s a lot to take in.”

“Oh, I’m not doing it,” he said simply.

May blinked at him, stunned, “You… you’re not doing it?”

“No way!” Mack replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “wait, are you?”

“I don’t know if I will or I won’t just yet,” May said defensively, “how have you already decided? When did you find out about it?”

“A few hours ago. There wasn’t much of a decision to make,” Mack shrugged, “not for me, anyway. I know more or less what I’ve forgotten. I don’t need the memories too.”

“You don’t?” May folded her arms across her chest, “what about all you’re missing out on? Your girlfriend here? She doesn’t care?”

“She cares… but she can live with my choice. And I get to fall in love with a beautiful woman who’s already in love with me, all over again,” he smiled a little at that, “there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” May echoed, “no, I suppose you’re right. You don’t want all the memories you’re missing back? Not even a little bit?”

“Sure,” Mack allowed, “but not enough to give up the ones I’ve got. My friends can tell me about all the good times that we had together that I’ve forgotten, I guess. It’ll suck that I can never remember them, but I can live with that. I can’t live with losing ten years of my baby girl. I can’t give up Hope.”

May couldn’t help but to smile a little at that, “then, I suppose there is no choice. Not for you.”

“I know. I know, it’s not even something to consider. I just don’t know how to tell Simmons that,” Mack said pointedly, looking at her hopefully.

May sighed, because of course _that_ was what he really wanted to know, “you think I do?”

“I know you two are close,” Mack offered, “you and Simmons. You seem close.”

“We _were_ close,” May corrected him, “or, she was close to the Other May. I don’t know her.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s not the same,” Mack remarked knowingly, “they know us, but we don’t know them. It’s not the same thing.”

“No, it’s not,” May agreed, “so, what do you want from me, then? I can’t tell you how to best tell her that you won’t sacrifice yourself to save her boyfriend, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t know how, you’d have to ask someone who remembers her.”

“I know, I know. I just thought it might be easier if we tell Simmons together?” Mack offered.

 _‘You thought it might be easier if you hid behind me while I tell her,’_ May thought bitterly, but nodded.

“Yes, I suppose that’s better,” she remarked, “or at least, there’s safety in numbers. You’re certain, then?”

Mack nodded firmly, “I’m staying as I am. How about you?”

“I don’t know yet,” May admitted, “I need more time, but I think… I think I’m staying too.”

 

֎


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May calls her dad, and makes a surprising discovery about the Other May.

It didn’t take much convincing from Phil to get May to come watch a movie with him after dinner. He seemed so eager to watch some documentary that FitzSimmons had sent to him before the Framework Incident. Phil’s room suited him well: framed posters from WWII were hanging proudly on the walls, and other pieces of history mixed with priceless vintage spyware were scattered around the room. May took a few moments to examine the posters and trinkets, with Phil offering various explanations about the pieces’ period and purpose that May only half-listened to.

They ended up sitting together on his bed, still a little distant from each other, while the TV played some dull documentary about pollution that almost bored May to sleep. She could stay like this, easily, with him. Maybe she didn’t have a life here yet, but she still _could_. She could do what Mack was doing, and just ask her friends and family to fill in the blanks for her. Maybe, in time, Phil would come to accept her like this and fall in love with this version of May too. She could learn to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent again, to be a part of a team again. She could do it.

“What’s up?” Phil asked as the credits rolled, “concerned about global warming?”

May chuckled, “yeah, global warming. I don’t think that was a thing in the Framework.”

“Not unless the servers overheated, I guess,” Phil snorted, “so, what’s up, really?”

May shrugged, “It’s nice here. She built a good life here. All this… her friends, her family… _you_ … she did good, in the end. It’s a good life.”

Phil grinned, “it is. It’s a good life. Are you happy? Could you be happy here?”

“Yeah, I could,” May agreed slowly, “I think I could be happy here. Once I get used to it.”

“And you will!” Phil assured her, reaching over to squeeze her hand tightly, “I did, in time. It’s hard, to lose a part of you, to have a piece of your life replaced with something unreal. You’ll feel better in time. And I’ll be here to help you, every step of the way. You won’t ever be alone. You have so, so many people who love you.”

May smiled softly at that, “I do. I have you, and my team, and my friends, and my family… I should call my dad. Let him know what’s going on. He’ll be expecting me because Mama will have already called him to tell him all the news, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure,” Phil rolled his eyes, “it’s not too late in Arizona yet. You can probably still catch him before he goes to bed.”

“I can?” May frowned.

Phil shrugged and offered her his mobile phone, “here. Call him.”

May smirked a little at that, “You have my parents’ phone numbers saved? Seriously?”

“Well, if anything ever happened to you, who would you want to call them?” Phil pointed out, “someone they know, or some stranger from administration doing the ‘sorry for your loss’ spiel?”

May considered that, “I suppose you’re right.”

“Well, there you go,” Phil smiled, “call him. Before your mom finds out you haven’t called him yet. You don’t need to get in any more trouble with her.”

May snorted, rolling her eyes, “No, I’ve got enough trouble. Alright, I’ll call.”

 

֎

 

“ _Hello_?”

May inhaled sharply when she heard her father’s voice, still stunned to find her parents were alive.

_“Hello? Is anyone there?”_

“Hi, Dad,” May breathed, “it’s me, Melinda.”

_“Melinda! Hello! How are you?”_

“I’m fine, Dad,” May was quick to assure him, “everything is fine.”

_“Are you sure? What’s wrong, Mellie?”_

“Nothing’s wrong, Dad,” May shook her head, sitting down on her bed, “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

_“Oh, my angel. I’ve missed you.”_

“I’ve missed you too, Dad,” May smiled in spite of herself, “how are you?”

_“I’m wonderful, Melinda, wonderful. And how are you?”_

May laughed, “I’m better now. I’m sorry for not calling earlier, things have been… hectic, here.”

_“I know, I know. Your mama already called me. Things busy at work, Mellie?”_

“Yeah, Dad,” May nodded, “but it’s going to be alright. It’s alright now.”

_“And you and Phillip?”_

May rolled her eyes, “ _Dad_. Please. We’re just friends.”

_“Mm. I’m sure, Mellie. As long as he’s treating you right, okay?”_

“Sure, Dad,” May snorted, “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

_“Melinda. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how that man treated you after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. Terrible.”_

“Sure, Dad,” May agreed, even though she didn’t remember, “After S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. Right.”

 _“That he could even_ think _my Melinda was a Nazi… well! It’s ridiculous. I don’t know how you could forgive him, Mellie.”_

May hesitated, “I suppose anyone could have been Hydra at that time. It’s not so strange to think I could have been to.”

Her father snorted at that, “ _don’t be ridiculous, Melinda.”_

“I _could_ have been Hydra,” May argued, “is it really so ridiculous to you?”

 _“Because I_ know _my daughter. The woman you are, Melinda. You could never do anything so evil. Phillip ought to have known that too. How could anyone accuse you of being a Nazi? We’re_ Chinese _, for goodness sake. Honestly, Melinda, you ought to not so blindly forgive him.”_

May sighed, lying back on her bed, “It's _fine_ , Dad. I forgive him. It… it’s hard to explain.”

Her father scoffed, “ _Yes, I suppose all matters of the heart are, Mellie._ ”

“Oh, Dad,” May rolled her eyes, “it’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

_“That’s not what your mother says.”_

“Well, you shouldn’t listen to everything she says,” May shrugged, “Mama doesn’t know everything.”

_“Well, don’t you sound like a teenager again, Melinda!”_

May snorted, “I’m just _saying_ , Dad. I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway.”

_“Oh, it doesn’t matter. Things aren’t going well?”_

“No, Dad, things are going… as well as can be expected,” May shook her head, “you don’t need to worry about me.”

_“Oh, but I always worry about you, Melinda. How could I not?”_

“I can handle myself,” May assured him, “I’m not a child, Dad.”

_“I should think not. But you’re still my child, aren’t you?”_

“Of course,” she nodded, “I’ll always be your child, Dad. But I don’t need your worry.”

_“You’ll have it anyway.”_

May chuckled at that, “thanks, I guess. How are things with you? How’s the heat?”

_“The weather is beautiful here, Melinda, beautiful! You ought to come out to visit again. We can play golf again. Are you any better now?”_

“I doubt it,” May snorted.

_“If you practised, you’d get the hang of it. You’re normally a natural at these sort of things, Mellie! If you were a little more patient for it, you’d be much better at it.”_

“Patient, sure,” May agreed absently, “Now I’m not patient, am I?”

_“I didn’t say that, Melinda. We’re talking about golfing. You need to come out and practice more. After all, you went to visit your mother, didn’t you? Why not come out here for a few days?”_

“We had work to do in the area, Dad,” May rolled her eyes, “it wasn’t exactly a vacation.”

_“And why not take a vacation? Things are going well with S.H.I.E.L.D., you should be able to take some time now to come out to see me. I’m not going to live forever, Mellie.”_

May sighed, “I know, Dad. Believe me, I know. Things are just a little crazy with work right now.”

 _“Things are_ always _a little crazy with work, Melinda.”_

May chuckled, “yeah, I know. It’s a crazy job, but I took an oath.”

_“I know, I know. You took an oath. So much like your mother… You can even bring, Phillip, if you must. I’d like to speak with him, in any case.”_

“I don’t need you to interrogate him, Dad,” May warned him, “he’s just a friend.”

_“Then I’ll just talk to your ‘just a friend’… What’s the harm in that?”_

“What’s the harm!” May snorted, “Yeah, Dad, I’m sure it’ll just be a pleasant talk. Nothing about Hydra?”

_“Well! I’d like to know how he could accuse you of such a thing!”_

“It was a difficult time,” she sighed, as she rolled onto her stomach on the other side of the bed and felt something solid collide with her hip.

_“A difficult time! Well-”_

“Dad, I have to go,” she said suddenly, “I’ll call back again soon, alright?”

_“Are you sure? Is everything alright?”_

“Everything is fine,” she promised him, “I… I need to get back to work. Something came up.”

_“Alright, you be careful now. I love you, Mellie.”_

“I love you too, Dad,” she assured him, “I’ll call again soon.”

She hung up quickly, and hopped out of bed, lifting up the mattress. She almost didn’t see the small box at first but was quick to pull it out and take it over to her desk. It was a plain wooden box, flat and inconspicuous, with _Phillip J. Coulson_ carved on the lid. May opened it, to find a few items: an envelope, a small scrapbook, a small pile of Captain America trading cards, and a book called _‘Bringing Cap Home: The Return of Steve Rogers_ ’ marked with a note stating ‘ _for when you need something to keep your mind of things’_. May started with the envelope, marked with ‘ _For Phil’_ , written in her handwriting. The Other May had written him a letter then? What for?

 

_Dear Phil,_

_In the event that_ _you are reading this, things aren’t great._

_I know you’ll find that to be a terrible understatement, because when I lost you, things were the worst they’d ever been, but there’s no other way to put it. I’m sure you’re very upset, at the world, at me, at everything, and I’m sure you have every right to be. I am sorry, for whatever circumstances I left you in. You need to know that I didn’t leave because I wanted to go or because I didn’t love you enough to stay- because I do. I love you so, so much, and if I had any choice, I’d have stayed with you forever. If there were a way to change things, to have stayed with you, I would have taken it, but sometimes we don’t get that choice, do we?_

_I remember how much it hurt me to lose you, so I can imagine what you’re going through right now. For more than thirty years, you have been so much more than just a partner, and losing you felt like the end of the world. I was supposed to take care of you, always, and I wasn’t there, and I never forgave myself for that. I’m sure even by the time you’re reading this now, however long after I’m dead, I still won’t have forgiven myself for it. I’m sure you feel somewhat responsible for whatever kills me, because that’s what we do. It only seems fair that I tell you what you told me when I tried to apologise to you in the Guest House- there is nothing to be sorry for, because you did nothing that needs to be forgiven. I know you’ll never remember what happened in the Guest House but it will have to be enough that one of us remembers. I guess neither of us will know what it feels like to be on the other side of this._

_You have nothing to feel guilty for, Phil. Even though my life had to end, I’m glad that I got to spend as much of it as I could beside you. Don’t lock yourself away from the world, like I know you’re already doing. Go be with whatever people we have left. You hate being alone and you’re terrible at it. It will help, to be with people. Not at first, but give it time. It helps. Things will start to feel better in time, and that will hurt too, but it’s okay. I want you to get better. If you can’t do it for you, then do it for me. Try to get better for me._

_Things aren’t great right now, but they will be again, I promise. I had the time of my life with you, and though now you’ll have to live enough for both of us, I promise I’ll be with you for every step of the way. You are going to be okay, I promise, I’ll always be taking care of you._

_With all my love,_

_Melinda_

 

May sat back, hands shaking, and set the letter down beside her. _Oh_.

As strange as it was, this was the most connected she’d felt to the Other May. She’d written a letter. That was her handwriting scrawled across the page, her neatest print, words only slanted slightly to the right. How many drafts of this had she written, to get it just right? How long had it taken her to carefully pen out the final copy, making sure Phil would have no trouble reading each word? She’d meant for him to find this after she’d died after her death: knowing he’d be the one to come box up all her things to send home to her parents, knowing that he’d need something like this. Melinda May had loved Phil Coulson so much that she’d planned to take care of him even after she was no longer around to do so in person: she loved him too much to abandon him, even in death.

“She loved him,” May whispered in affirmation, “she _loved_ him.”

And now, she was gone. A real person, much more real than the May who remained, was doomed to remain a piece of code on Radcliffe’s hard-drive. They’d erase her eventually, when they realised they had no use for her. She’d be wiped away as if she was nobody, just a series of 1s and 0s that had been left behind, unwanted. It didn’t matter that she’d worked so hard to get her life back together after Bahrain, to come back into the field to keep Phil safe, to rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D. so she could still keep the world safe even if they didn’t want her to anymore. It didn’t matter, because she was dead now, just as dead as she’d been when Radcliffe killed her. May put the letter anyway, already feeling uneasy. It had been easier when the Other May was just a missing piece of this world. The person who wrote that letter, she was real. She was a real, living person, or she had been. Now, the May who came back was occupying her body, the real May was gone forever.

May opened the scrapbook, if only out of morbid curiosity: it was full of photographs, postcards, ticket stubs, mission logs, scribbled notes, newspaper clippings… all painstakingly assembled in what May presumed was chronological order. Alongside them every few pages, there would be her handwriting again, messier this time:

_Do you remember Sausalito? Our first mission together, back when we were both still practically kids? I swore I was going to get you back for that a million times over, leave you stranded in a bay somewhere for a few hours to see how you liked it- I’m glad I didn’t. You’re a better swimmer than me anyway, you would have found your own way out, and it would have been even more annoying._

_Do you remember Glasgow? That science lab when we lost our first teammate? Fury gave us that bottle of Haig and told us we could drink it now as it was and let this be our worse mission, or save it and hold on a little while longer. I never told you, but I found it in your apartment after your funeral when I was boxing up your things. It’s pretty terrible, actually._

_Do you remember the Lawson Brothers Investigation? The first time we went undercover as husband and wife? You were so nervous, it took you two minutes to even unhook my bra… I swore I was never going to let you live that down, ever. Was I your first, Phil? Was that the first time you’d ever made out with a girl like that? I don’t know if it’s better or worse if it was._

_Do you remember the Summerhill Laboratory? Fury sent us out there for some ‘paranormal occurrence’, even though you were terrified of ghosts- probably BECAUSE of you were so terrified, actually. You were so scared, you spent the whole night waking me up every five minutes to listen to the wind outside, convinced it was someone whispering. By the end of the night, I was prepared to throw you off the balcony just to get some sleep. You’re such a nightmare to share a bed with, you know?_

_Do you remember when Cooper was born? God, he was so tiny and perfect, I could hardly believe Barton helped make him. He was such a beautiful baby, we were so happy to be his godparents. We wanted to have one of our own, remember? We would have made an amazing kid, I’m sure._

_Do you remember when S.H.I.E.L.D. brought Captain America back? I’d never seen you so excited. You came up to administration and dragged me down to the med bay they were keeping him in to watch him sleep. You couldn’t even stand still for two seconds, you had to tell everyone that you knew all along he was out there somewhere. And when they realised he wasn’t dead… I thought you’d have a heart attack! Do you remember meeting him? Nat said you made a fool of yourself, asking him to sign you trading cards… I’d have liked to have seen that._

_Do you remember Union Station? Our first mission back together again, back when FitzSimmons and Skye were still practically kids? I didn’t want to go back into the field, but Mike Peterson kind of forced my hand, didn’t he? I still need to get him back for that, don’t I? I’m almost glad it happened now. Not quite, but almost._

 

_Do you remember…_

_Do you remember…_

_Do you remember…_

_Do you remember…_

 

May slammed the book shut, feeling ill. She didn’t remember. She didn’t remember any of it. Yet, here it all was, everything she’d hoped for, laid out in black and white. The Other May had been a real person, who had lived, and loved, and had done her best to keep Phil safe even in the event of her death. She had a whole life of memories, of her own thoughts and feelings, that no one knew about. And now, her mind was lost, her body stolen, and there was only one way to bring her back.

 

֎


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May speaks with Phil about her final decision.

May couldn’t sleep.

She lay on her back, staring up at the fish-shaped water stain on the ceiling, and tried to clear her mind, to no avail. This room, this bed, this _body_ … none of it belonged to her, not really. She had never _had_ a body at all, at least not one made of flesh and blood and bones. She was a piece of code, put together by a psychopath to force an innocent woman into staying in a hellish dream world. She glanced over at the other side of the bed, where the little box of memories for Phil remained. The Other May was the real one. A real person, with thoughts and feelings, who’d been reduced to a piece of code. If she stayed, that’s all she’d ever be.

She sat up in bed finally, running her fingers through her hair. She may as well give Phil his mourning box so he could start to get better. The Other May had known it all along of course: that he’d become obsessively guilty and isolate himself from the others. The May who had come back was just a replacement to lessen the pain for a little while. He could pretend that she was the Real May (because that’s who she was, wasn’t she? Not the Other May, but the _Real_ May), he could pretend he didn’t care about Hydra, he could pretend she was going to get better… anything so that he didn’t have to mourn her. They all were doing it, in their own ways. No one was prepared to let the Real May go, at any cost.

“God, what idiots,” she grumbled to herself, getting out of bed, but there was no fire to it. She’d lost Garrett after all. Saying goodbye to a best friend had felt impossible at the time, and if she’d had a chance to bring back some small piece of him… she wondered idly if the pieces of code associated with Garrett and Sitwell were still on Radcliffe’s computer, with the Real May, then rolled her eyes. God, she was just as bad as them! Pretending that some programming was the same as a real person. How could it be? She wasn’t _real_. Not real like everyone else here, even if there were content to pretend she was. She sighed and shook her head as she sat down at her desk, and started to write,

_Dear Melinda,_

 

֎

 

Even though he’d assured her she could come by anytime, May still felt a little silly as she stood in the bathroom and lightly knocked on the door to Phil’s room.

“Phil?” she called quietly, “are you awake?”

He grumbled something back, which she decided to take as a ‘ _sure, I’m awake, come on in,’_ and let herself into his room. He was still curled up in bed, sighing sleepily as she came to sit down beside him and set his phone down on the bedside table next to the robotic hand. He murmured something that sounded almost like her name and brought his good hand down to rest of her knee. She smiled in spite of herself for a second, then shook her head. _No,_ Melinda. This isn’t about you or him, not anymore.

“Good morning,” she whispered, “sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright,” he mumbled, “I was getting up.”

“Looks like it,” May rolled her eyes, “it’s alright, you can go back to sleep in a minute, okay? I just wanted to talk for a minute.”

“Sure, sure,” he yawned, “come lie down and tell me about it.”

“No, it’s alright,” she shook her head, because she couldn’t go down that path, or else she’d stay forever with him, “it’ll only be a minute. It’s um… look, Mack and I are going to see Simmons soon. I… I wanted to talk to you before I go.”

“Mm,” he hummed sleepily, “don’t worry too much if she takes the news badly. She’s just… upset, about Fitz. It’ll be alright. She’ll manage.”

“She will,” May agreed slowly, “because she won’t have to, really.”

Phil yawned again, wrinkling his nose, “what do you mean?”

May offered him a weak smile, “I mean, you’re getting your May back.”

“I’m getting my May back,” he repeated dreamily, then frowned, “Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going to get the memory restoration done,” May explained gently, “soon, hopefully. I imagine Simmons will be eager to run the first trial.”

“You’re getting the memory restoration done?” Phil repeated, opening his eyes slowly, “but… why? I thought you didn’t want it?”

“I didn’t…” she agreed, “but I changed my mind.”

“May, no,” Phil shook his head, “you don’t have to do this. Getting your memory erased is a nightmare. I don’t want you to have to suffer that too.”

“Well, I’ve already had it erased,” May pointed out, “this would just be a correction, if you think about it. Going back to what I was before. It’s not like being erased, not really.”

Phil rubbed his eyes, sitting up a little, “what’s gotten into you? What’s wrong?”

May didn’t really have an answer to that. She couldn’t tell him what she’d found, not yet. The Real May had saved it for when she was gone permanently, not for some temporary loss. She’d have to start all over again if May screwed it up for her now. That wasn’t fair to her, not at all.

“You thought I was Hydra here, didn’t you?” May offered instead, “when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell? But the Real May wasn’t Hydra at all. She was always loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D., no matter what.”

“Yeah, for a little bit,” Phil nodded, “you were reporting on me to someone, but I didn’t know who. Thought it was Hydra, but it turned out to be Fury. That… we had a tough time after that, but we’re alright now. Right?”

“I _was_ Hydra,” May reminded him again, “I chose Hydra.”

Phil sighed, “I know, May, we’ve been over this. I don’t care if you were Hydra in the Framework. It was just a simulation, it wasn’t real. It doesn’t matter to me what you did.”

“It should matter. It should matter to you that I did the things I did. It should change things. My parents, they keep calling Hydra _Nazis_ … and you know, maybe they’re right,” May shrugged, hugging her arms around herself, “maybe we were all just a bunch of Nazis, Phil. God, I lead a genocide, for God’s sake, and I didn’t care. I convinced myself it was justified, even though I should have known better. I let hundreds of thousands of people be killed, human and inhuman alike, because it was for the _greater good_. I had no right to make that call, no right to do the things I did. It should matter. It should matter because I didn’t know they weren’t real. I thought I was killing real people, and I did it anyway because they didn’t matter to me.”

“It’s alright,” he told her firmly, “you… you thought you were making the right call, to protect the rest of the population. You were just following Madame Hydra’s orders. You didn’t know.”

“I knew. I knew exactly what I was doing. I didn’t just participate, Phil, I _led_. Because I was scared of them,” May sighed, “because I was _terrified_ of the inhumans, and how different they were from the rest of us. So, I let all those people be tortured and slaughtered, to make myself feel better.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, “it’s okay. It’s over now, and they weren’t real people. It’s okay now.”

She snorted, “it’s not okay. Even if it wasn’t real, it’s the farthest thing from okay. Love has blinded you, Phil.”

“Maybe. But is that so bad?” Phil argued.

“Yes!” she exclaimed exasperatedly, “Phil! Look at yourself! Look at what you’re willing to overlook! Is that really who you want to be?”

“I just want to be with you,” he told her firmly, “that’s all. That’s all I want. Is that too much to ask?”

She sighed, softening a little at that, “I understand, how hard this must be for you. Losing her, then getting a piece of her back, no matter how strange and small it is. I can understand why you don’t want to let go, not for any reason. Love and fear… it can be a lethal combination.”

“Sometimes,” he allowed, “but it’s not for us.”

She snorted, “isn’t that what everyone thinks?”

“We’re not like everyone else!” he protested.

She rolled her eyes, “again, I’m sure that’s what everyone thinks. It’s alright, Phil. I understand. You think you got the woman you love back, and you’re terrified of losing her again. It’s perfectly logical. There’s nothing to be defensive about.”

He sighed, “what’s this about, May? You want to erase yourself, so you don’t have to feel guilty about what happened in the Framework? Is that it? It wasn’t _real_ , May. There’s nothing to feel guilty about. So, some 1s and 0s disappeared. That doesn’t make you a Nazi any more than playing a video game would make you one.”

She shook her head, “you’re never going to understand, Phil. It was real to me.”

“It wasn’t real,” he told her again, “it wasn’t real, Melinda.”

“And neither am I!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air, “do you see that, at least? I’m made up of the Framework, you know. All my memories, my thoughts, my feelings. It’s all from who I was in the Framework. If it’s not real, then neither am I.”

“You’re real,” he assured her quickly, “or, you’re real now. Come on, May, you can’t let them erase you. You _can’t_.”

“I can,” she told him gently, “I can, and I will. I just wanted you to be the first to know. You deserve to be the first to know, really.”

“No,” he shook his head firmly, “no. You can’t, Melinda. You can’t do this.”

“I’m going to,” she shrugged, “it needs to be done, Phil. We both know that.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he argued, “you’re still _you_. I know you, Melinda, I know who you really are.”

She sighed, “the real me. Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Phil frowned.

“I know what you meant, and I know what I mean. This is what I want,” May told him firmly, “and I’m sure that this is what the Real May would have wanted too. This is what both of us want, Phil. It’s not your call.”

“I can’t lose you! Not again!” he protested, “Melinda, please. Don’t do this. I’ve lost a lot of people in my life, but I can’t lose you too. Never you.”

She smiled, “if it goes well, you won’t have to. But Phil, you’ve already lost her now. This is the only way to get her back. Don’t you see that? I’m never going to be the Real May, and I’m never going to be the person that everyone here needs me to be-”

“We can run away together,” he tried helplessly, “just you and me. We don’t need them, okay? We don’t need anyone else but each other. It’ll just be us again, just you and me against the world, like the old days.”

“It’s never been just us,” she reminded him, “it’s never been you and me. I barely know you.”

“I know you enough for both of us,” he insisted, “we’ll be alright, you’ll see.”

“No, we won’t,” she told him gently, “because I’m going down to the lab, and I’m going to ask Simmons to perform the memory restoration. And then, you can ask the Real May if she wants to run away with you, okay?”

“No,” he shook his head tearfully, “No, I can’t lose you. No.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want,” May reminded him, “it’s not your choice, Phil, it’s mine. It doesn’t matter whether or not you approve.”

“It doesn’t matter?” he snapped, “I’m in love with you! How does that not matter? How is that not enough reason to stay?”

“Phil, you’re not in love with _me_. You’re in love with the woman who you were partners with for thirty years,” she told him gently, “and I understand, why you would be because she sounds brave, and strong, and kind, and everything that you deserve. But I’m not her.”

“Yes, you are!” he protested, “yes, you are. You’re Melinda May-”

“But I’m not _your_ Melinda May,” she reminded him, “I’m not her. And I never will be her. You need to understand that, Phil. You need to understand that I’m not her.”

“I do!” he argued fiercely, “I do, and I love you too. I love every version of you just as much.”

“No, you don’t,” she told him, offering him a weak smile, “I… I know you _think_ you do, and I _wish_ you did, but it’s not true. This is just some band-aid solution so that you don’t have to say goodbye to Melinda.”

“Why would I need to say goodbye? That’s ridiculous, we don’t need to say goodbye,” he shook his head, “don’t talk like that, Melinda, please. You’re here, and you’re whole and alive, and you’re _here_. That’s all that matters. You can stay with me, and we’ll be fine, I promise. I promise I’ll keep you safe and take care of you. I _promise_.”

“It’s not enough,” May told him gently.

“How could it not be enough?” Phil protested, “I will give you _anything_ , _everything_ you want if you stay. How could that not be enough?”

“You can’t make me real,” May told him, “you can give me thirty years of memories back. You can’t change the terrible things I’ve done. I know you want to fix this because it’ll make you feel less guilty for not finding the Real May sooner, but you _can’t_. The only way to fix this is if I get the memory restoration, which I will be doing, whether you like it or not.”

“Melinda, _please_ ,” he begged her tearfully, “I can’t lose you!”

“This isn’t about you!” she finally snapped, “Can't you see that?”

“Then what?” he demanded, “what is it? I’ll fix it, whatever it is, I-”

“This is about _her_. The Real May,” she sighed, and shook her head, “she deserves better than this. She was finally getting her life back to where she wanted it, finally becoming who she wanted to be again. Think about her, Phil. Think about your Melinda.”

He was silent then for a moment, leaning back against the headboard.

“Phil,” she told him gently, “she was a good person, wasn’t she?”

“She was,” he agreed quietly, “she was the _best_ person.”

“She was good, and brave, and kind,” May reminded him, “she was strong and unselfish. She stood up for what she believed in, no matter the cost. She kept fighting, even though she was scared and broken, because she knew it was the right thing to do. That’s why you loved her so much, right?”

He nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes, “right. God, she was… incredible.”

May smiled, “and she needs that love, now more than ever. She needs someone to keep fighting for her until she comes home. Isn’t that what she would have done for you?”

“I…” he hesitated, “I don’t know. Yes, I suppose. But it’s more complicated than that! It’s… you’re here. You’re real. You deserve to stay that way. No one should ever have their memories erased and rewritten, May. Especially not someone like you.”

“Well, it’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” May sighed, then shook her head, “You told me that she was good and selfless. That Melinda May would go out of her way to help a total stranger.”

“That’s true,” he agreed slowly.

May shrugged, a little helplessly, “so, doesn’t she deserve to have someone to do the same thing for her?”

He didn’t have an answer to that, and just frowned, “you don’t want to do this.”

May smiled a little in spite of herself, “maybe not. But for the first time in a really long time, I’m doing the _right_ thing. Not because it’s easy, not because it’ll make me feel better, but because it’ll help someone else. That’s what I want. That’s who I want to be. I get to choose now, right? Who I want to be now?”

“I…” he shook his head, “erasing yourself isn’t the answer, Melinda.”

May sighed, “I know you’ll never approve of my decision, but that’s not what I need from you.”

“What do you need?” he asked.

“I need you to be there, to take care of the Real May when she wakes up,” she replied, “she’s going to need you more than ever. Promise me you’ll put aside all this to take care of her.”

“I promise,” he said instantly, “I… I’ll come with you. I’ll help you all the way, I-”

“I don’t think you should come,” she told him gently, “it doesn’t feel right. I don’t think you should be there when I go under. You should be there when she wakes up. The Real May.”

“You’re real to me,” he whispered, “you’re real to me.”

“And I will always be grateful for that,” she paused, “well, for the little while I have left. But it’s not enough. I know I’m not real. And me being here, is keeping a real person from coming home to people who love her, people who are missing her. People like you, Phil. I’m not real, and I’m okay with that. And I’m okay with disappearing if it means it’s going to save someone else’s life. I guess I got to keep some of her selflessness and bravery after all.”

Phil smiled sadly, “no, that was always you, Melinda. That’s always _you_.”

She leant over to kiss his forehead, “I love you too, you know. I don’t know how much, but enough to know that the Real May must love you so, so much. Promise me you’ll take care of her.”

“I promise,” he kissed her cheek, pulling her into a tight hug, “I will always take care of you, Melinda. I love you.”

She buried her face in his neck, letting herself hold him tightly for a moment, before pulling away.

“I should get going,” she replied, making sure to keep her voice perfectly steady, “Mack is already anxious enough as it is. I guess… I guess she’ll see you on the other side.”

“I really did love you too,” he told her, “in spite of everything.”

May smiled, “I’m glad someone did. Go back to sleep, Phil. I… I’ll see you soon. Everything is going to be alright now.”

 

֎


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mack and May go to the lab to talk to Simmons.

“Are you sure?” Mack asked for the millionth time.

May sighed, “Yes, I’m sure. Are you?”

“Of course,” he frowned, “but it’s easier for me to change my mind.”

“Do you think you will?” May asked.

He shook his head, “no, I’m certain.”

“So am I,” May replied, as they turned the corner into the lab, “entirely certain.”

“May! Mack!” Simmons chirped, glancing up as they entered, “how nice to see you! How are you? How are things?”

May waved a hand, “things are fine, we’ve come to talk about the memory restoration?”

“Right then!” Simmons said, a little surprised, “um. What have you come to talk about it? Some more questions?”

“Some decisions,” May replied, and nodded to Mack.

“I’ve decided to stay the way I am,” Mack informed her, “with these memories.”

“You… you have?” Simmons frowned, “but… what about your life here? All those memories?”

“I can live without them,” Mack shrugged, “but I can’t live without Hope. Even if it’s not real. I can’t forget ten years with my baby girl, Simmons.”

“Mack… you won’t remember any of this world,” Simmons told him gently, “none of your friends. You’ll never remember any of us.”

“Simmons, if we were friends before, we’ll be friends again,” Mack replied calmly, “but I won’t forget my little girl. Not for anyone.”

“Not even for Yoyo?” Simmons tried.

“Not even for Yoyo,” Mack agreed, “she knows. We’ve discussed it, and she’s accepted it.”

Simmons frowned, turning to look at May helplessly.

“I’ve decided to do it,” May told her, if only to put her out of her misery.

Simmons’ eyes lit up at that, “you have? Really?”

May nodded, “Yes. I’d like my old memories back.”

Simmons smiled, and clapped her hands, “Oh, wonderful! I’ll get Waverly then, shall I?”

“Sure,” May shrugged, “will we be able to do it quickly then?”

“I’ll see,” Simmons said, “I’m not sure how much progress has been made in their experiments. We’ll still need to run some more tests and some more scans of your brain. And Mack, we’ll need some from you too, even if you’re keeping your Framework memories. Why don’t you both go lie down, and I’ll get Waverly?”

May and Mack exchanged a look, but both nodded their consent and went to lie down as Simmons scampered from the room.

“If you’re sure,” Mack said, one last time.

“I am,” May nodded, staring up at the ceiling and willing her heart to stop racing, “it’ll all be over soon. This will be the last test I’ll ever have to do, you know.”

Mack snorted, “perhaps it’ll be worth it after all, then.”

 

֎

 

Mack was released from his tests much sooner than May. Simmons remained a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in the memory restoration, and pleaded with him to give it a little more thought, but Mack remained adamant that he was keeping his memories of Hope. Simmons was reluctant to give up on him but eventually turned her attention onto May. May lay on the hospital bed, squinting at bright lights above her and doing her best to ignore the beeping of the machines and the buzzing of the machine on her head. Simmons sat down beside her and offered her a weak smile.

“Don’t worry about him,” Simmons assured her, “he’ll come around.”

“He’s made up his mind, Simmons,” May told her gently, “I doubt you’ll be able to change it. He loves his daughter too much. And besides, he’s already falling back in love with Yoyo. I doubt he’ll want to risk losing her either.”

Simmons paused, “He is?”

“Sure,” May nodded, “it’s not as simple as you think it is. It’s a difficult decision to make.”

“But you made it, didn’t you?” Simmons pointed out, “you’re going to let us fix you, right?”

“I am,” May agreed slowly, “but it’s not for you. It’s not for any of you.”

Simmons blinked at her, “no… no, of course not.”

“I’m doing this for the Real May,” May told her sternly, “she… she was finally getting her life back together again. She deserves to get a chance to finish it. I’m not even real. I’m a piece of code trying to fit into a world that I don’t belong to…. A world that doesn’t belong to me. And I’m okay with that. She built a life here, she crawled all the way back from hell to become the person she wanted to be, and it was stolen from her. There are people who love her, and who are waiting for her to come home. Let me bring her back.”

Simmons was silent for a long moment: her mouth opened a few times to respond, but nothing came. Eventually, she took May’s hand in her own, and squeezed it tightly, offering her a weak smile.

“I understand, Agent May,” she said, “that’s very noble of you. I’m sure she’ll appreciate what you’ve done for you.”

May shrugged, “I don’t know. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if it were reversed. I… I didn’t realise, what she’d been forced to give up, for me to be here.”

“It wasn’t your choice either,”

“Well, this is,” May sighed, slouching back against the pillows, “or, it will be. Will you be able to do it soon?”

“Not long now,” Simmons told her, “they’re doing the final scans of your brain, to see how much residue is still left from your real memories. It’s a strange and complicated science that we don’t fully understand yet. It’s centuries beyond anything humans have ever done before.”

May frowned, “do you think it’ll work?”

Simmons hesitated, “all the most recent simulations of the procedure have been successful.”

“And the ones before that?” May pressed her.

Simmons winced, “there was… there was a steep learning curve. They’ve probably got it figured out by now though.”

May rolled her eyes, “I hope so. The sooner this is all over, the better. I imagine your May will be anxious to get back to her life.”

“I know,” Simmons squeezed her hand tightly, “it’s funny. I feel like I know our May better for having known you.”

“I hear she’s not exactly an open book,” May snorted, “it’s fine, Simmons, really. Neither am I, usually. In our line of work, it’s easier to be closed off. And after all she’d been through here, I can’t imagine it’s easy to open up to anyone again.”

“No, I imagine it must have been hard for you,” Simmons sighed, “I… I never thought about it like that, that anything _could_ be hard for you. Everything always seemed so effortless and natural to you. I was always so envious, of how simple everything seemed to be for you.”

May smiled a little at that, “practice helps. I was a teenager when I joined S.H.I.E.L.D., Simmons. I’ve had decades of experience with this sort of thing. Besides, my job is much easier than yours. I was always terrible at science.”

Simmons laughed, “were you? I can’t imagine that. You seem to be good at everything.”

May rolled her eyes, “ _almost_ everything. Not quite _everything_ though.”

“Are you scared?” Simmons asked, watching her carefully, “for this? Are you scared?”

“Yes,” May sighed, and took a deep breath, “yes, of course, I’m scared. But it’s the right thing to do. We all have to do things that scare us sometimes, don’t we?”

Simmons nodded, “I know. I just didn’t know you did too.”

May rolled her eyes, “you wear your emotions too close to the surface. I imagine everyone can tell whenever you feel anything.”

Simmons smiled a little at that, “you taught me how to hide that, a little. And how to lie.”

May frowned, “What for?”

“To keep me safe,” Simmons shrugged, “I… I needed to know. You need to know how to do that sort of thing, to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. I never thought about it before, how scary it must have been for you to send me undercover at Hydra. You were so calm and collected and just told me that you had eyes everywhere and wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. Even though I knew it was impossible for you to be watching over me, I still believed it, that you were somewhere watching me. And you did have Bobbi there, I suppose, so there was someone there to look out for me, even if I didn’t know it. But I… it must have been scary for you, to send me off to Hydra and not know if I’d be alright. Not be there to fix things if they went wrong. It must have been scary.”

“Yes, it must have been,” May shook her head, “at the very least, I know that she loved you, Simmons. So much, that even with her memories wiped, that still remained.”

“That you didn’t want me to be unhappy,” Simmons supplied.

“That’s right,” May agreed, “so, she’ll be pleased to see you again, even though she’ll be very scared. You’ll have to take care of her.”

“Of course,” Simmons shrugged, but before May could further stress the point, Waverly bounced over with a huge smile.

“Hello, Hello!” he greeted them, “last results are in! We excited?”

“I can hardly wait,” May said sarcastically. Simmons snorted.

“Right, well, there are some traces of the original memories here,” Waverly informed her, “but there does seem to be a mostly clear removal. I think. I think it’ll be mostly smooth sailing.”

May rolled her eyes, “you have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

“We have some idea!” Waverly protested, “but unless we read the Darkhold-”

“We’re never opening that book again!” Simmons interjected instantly.

“Unless we did, which we’re not going to,” Waverly amended, “but unless we did, there’s no way we can fully understand what AIDA and Radcliffe did. The best we can do is replicate it and hope it has the same effect. You have to understand that, Agent May- it may not even work.”

May nodded, “I understand. What are you planning on doing?”

“We’ve got to reproduce AIDA’s final rewrite of your memories, the last creation of the Framework,” Waverly explained, “the programme AIDA used still seems to be intact, although still far too complex for us to comprehend. We understand there were plans to capture Agents Simmons and Johnston and enter them into the Framework as well, so we have no reason to believe it would have been altered. The initial Framework simulation was prewritten before you were implanted into it, so in theory, we should be able to do the same with your original memories.”

“In theory,” May echoed. “alright then.”

Waverly looked a little surprised at that, “uh… well, alright then. Do you have any other questions?”

May considered that, “what will happen, if it goes wrong?”

Waverly hesitated, “it’s… it’s hard to say, exactly. We… we’ve never done anything like this before on anyone. There’s a possibility of brain death, of course. Permanent loss of all memories from both lives. Fragments of both lives co-existing, perhaps. The simulations have been… increasingly promising? But it’s not without risks, of course, because it’s not a perfect science. We’ve never actually experimented on a real human brain before, you see.”

May sighed, “well, how lucky for me. How much will it hurt, exactly?”

Waverly and Simmons exchanged a look.

“May… May, it’s not going to hurt at all. We’re not going to keep you awake for it,” Simmons told her slowly, “you… you didn’t think we were torture you, right? This isn’t going to be what happened to Agent Coulson.”

May shrugged, “how should I know? I don’t remember how I got these memories, after all.”

Simmons paused, “we’re not going to hurt you, May. I promise we’re not going to hurt you.”

May nodded, “alright then. So, I’ll be asleep?”

“You’ll be unconscious for the procedure. We’ll put you under before we even begin to attempt the rewrite,” Simmons assured her, “you won’t remember any of it. You won’t be hurt.”

May offered her a tight-lipped smile, “that’s good then. How long will it take?”

“A few hours,”

“all the files need to be uncompressed. And then, after that, you’ll need to be under observation for a few days… but you won’t remember that when you wake up. I’ll tell you all this again, once it’s over.”

“And she… and I won’t remember any of this?” May asked.

“If everything goes well,” Waverly nodded, “you’ll wake up with all your memories, up to your death. There might be some residue of the Framework memories leftover, things tied to strong emotions, but you won’t have any real memories left. You’ll be more or less exactly as you were, just with two months of your life missing.”

May nodded, “and how soon can you start.”

“Um… now, I guess?” Waverly frowned, “are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” May nodded, “you can start.”

Waverly was stunned for a moment, then nodded, “I… alright then. I’ll start setting up. Agent Simmons, can you put the patient under?”

“Of course,” Simmons tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace, “Agent May… is there anything else I can do for you before I put you under? Anything at all?”

May considered that for a moment. For a moment, she wanted to call her family, but that would only frighten them. She thought about calling her friends, but her friends were dead, and the Real May’s friends didn’t know her. There was no one here left for her to call, not really. There was nothing left for her to do but to die.

“No,” she said finally, “no, I’ve done everything I need to do. Thank you, Simmons. You’ve been very kind.”

Simmons nodded, with a small smile, “I’ll get started then.”

Simmons and Waverly were silent as they assembled their medical equipment, and May stared up at the ceiling and tried to steady her heartbeat. It would all be over soon, at least for her. She just needed to hold on a little while longer, use a little more of that bravery she was renowned for in this world. It would all be over soon. She’d go back to being a little piece of code on the computer, and the Real May would get to come home. Everything would be as it was meant to be, in the end. She just needed to hold on a little while longer.

“Is everything alright, May?” Simmons asked.

“You be good to her, okay?” May said, gripping Simmons’ hand tightly, “I know she’s the one who normally takes care of you, but you have to do it this time. She’s going to be so scared and confused, and she’s going to need you to take care of her.”

“I will,” Simmons promised, squeezing May’s hand back, “I promise I’ll take care of you.”

May nodded, released her hand, “Good. Good girl.”

Simmons watched her thoughtfully for a moment, then lightly brushed some of the hair away from May’s face, “don’t be scared, May. Don’t be scared. I’m going to be here with you the whole time, I promise. And I’ll be here when you wake up. Don’t be scared.”

May nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Simmons took her arm and was polite enough to ignore that May flinched when she inserted the needle.

“Alright, Agent May,” Simmons said, trying to sound detached and professional, and failing, “I’m going to need you to count down from ten, okay?”

“Alright,” May nodded, lying back, and closing her eyes, “Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three…”

 

֎


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May wakes up, but things aren't quite as she left them.

May woke with a gasp.

She blinked up at blinding white light, feeling dazed and nauseous, as visions of her friends with demonic faces and snarling voices flooded her memory. She sat up shakily, head spinning as the sound of humming machines rung in her ears, and blinked at the blurry colours and bright lights of wherever she was. All she knew for certain was someone had stuck some medical monitors to her, and there was some buzzing machine strapped to her head, and that she _hated_ it.

“What the hell is this?” she snarled, “Get this crap off of me!”

A blurred face May vaguely recognised as Jemma Simmons flew before her vision for a moment, before she threw her arms around May and drew her into a tight embrace. May struggled against her, alarmed, but was too weak to put up much of fight.

“Shh, shh,” Simmons murmured, stroking May’s hair with a shaky hand, “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you, you’re safe now. You’re not alone. Don’t be scared.”

May froze up for a moment, stunned, then relaxed into Simmons’ embrace, wrapping her arms around her.

“Jemma,” she murmured, pressing her face to Simmons’ shoulder, trying to ignore the rapid pounding of her heart, as it almost threatened to tear right out of her chest.

“That’s right, it’s me. I’ve got you,” Simmons repeated, rocking her back and forth gently, “I’ve got you. You’re safe now. Don’t be scared. Breathe for me, okay? Breathe in, breathe out, in… out… in… out… good, that’s it. Just focus on your breathing. Steady your heart rate for me. You’re okay now. You’re going to be okay.”

May could do that, at least: she focused on her shaky breathing and turned it into steady deep breaths, but there was little she could do for the panicked fluttering of her heart.

“What… what’s going on?” she finally managed to stammer.

“You’re safe now,” Simmons reiterated firmly, and released May, standing up and adjusting the bed, so May could lean back against it and still be somewhat sitting upright, “relax and lie back for me, alright? Do you know who I am?”

May nodded as she leant back against the bed, though her body was still tensed, “you’re ah…. Jemma Simmons.”

“That’s right,” Simmons nodded, “Do you know who _you_ are?”

“Melinda May, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” May answered instantly. That, at least, was something she was always certain of.

Simmons breathed a sigh of relief at that, “ _yes_. Yes, you are! Okay, that’s good, good work. Do you know where you are?”

May squinted at the room, eyesight still out-of-focus and distorted, “is it… is it the lab? In the Playground?”

“Yes, it is,” Simmons agreed, blurry face turning from her for a moment, “Agent Waverly, did anything happen to her vision while she was under? She doesn’t seem to be focusing well.”

“No idea. The procedure shouldn’t have done anything, but it could be psychosomatic,” someone May didn’t recognise offered from outside May’s field of vision- Agent Waverly, presumably, “from the ghost psychosis, I mean. It probably wasn’t anything _I_ did.”

“She didn’t say-” Simmons started, then shook her head, “but I never asked, I suppose. May, try and look at me, okay? What’s the last thing you remember?”

May frowned: her head was sore, and her memories were so hazy, it took her a moment to focus enough to begin to remember anything.

“I… um, I was in a room, tied down to something, I… I couldn’t move. There were people… not _people_ , I don’t know… they were over me, hissing and growling at each other,” May shuddered, biting her lower lip, “with these awful demonic faces, just… all sunken eyes staring at me and darkness. God, it was so dark.”

“Oh, good!” Simmons sounded delighted for some reason and clapped her hands excitedly.

“No, not good! Bad. Very, very bad. I think… something bad came out of that box, Simmons. It’s infecting people, turning them into…” May couldn’t even begin to describe what it was turning them into, “something _terrible_.”

“Oh, no, I know, I know,” Simmons assured her, “but there’s nothing to worry about now. The ghost psychosis has been eliminated, and all patients have been cured, including you.”

“Including me?” May echoed, “I… I was sick too?”

Simmons hesitated, “you were sick, yes, very sick. It’s complicated, but I promise I’ll explain it all to you in great depth later. What matters is you remember it at all, that’s a good sign.”

May nodded slowly, not sure what could possibly be good about remembering such a terrible thing. Her blurry vision seemed to be focusing a little more as her eyes adjusting to the brightness of the room, and she could see Simmons’ face clearly at least: she looked weary and frazzled, but pleased with herself over something. May settled back against the bed with a yawn, feeling exhausted. Probably from beating up all those possessed agents this morning, though her hands didn’t seem to hurt as much as they should. Her head was still throbbing… and yet, it seemed like it was much more than just from being smashed against the wall by the asshole new Director.

“I’m going to go to bed,” May mumbled, and starting to pull at the machine on her head.

“No, no, no,” Simmons chided her as the several more machines started beeping angrily, “don’t take any of these off, we’re still monitoring you. You’ll need to stay here for the next few days, okay?”

“I don’t want to be here at all,” May grumbled, but was too tired to argue too much, and lay back down.

Simmons smiled a little at that, “well, we all want you here. You’ll have to be patient, alright? We’ve all been incredibly patient waiting for you to come back, after all.”

“How long was I out for?” May asked, rubbing her eyes.

Simmons hesitated, “um. In total? It’s been almost two months.”

May’s eyes widened at that, “ _two months_? You’re not serious.”

Simmons winced, and shrugged, “I am, I’m afraid. Poor thing, we’ve all been terribly worried about you. We… we were worried you might not survive the procedure at all. So, you must be patient, alright? A few days in the med bay won’t kill you.”

May smirked at that, “it might kill _you_. How is everyone? They’re okay?”

“They’re fine,” Simmons assured her, “well, Agent Coulson is beside himself with worry, of course. He’ll be so disappointed he missed you waking up, but Talbot needed him. Duty calls, I suppose.”

May hummed in agreement, “I hope you didn’t let him get too worked up. His heart isn’t very good, you know.”

Simmons smiled, “I know. Don’t worry. We’ve all been taking care of each other.”

“Good,” May nodded, “that’s good.”

“Now, there are a lot of details I need to go over with you,” Simmons told her, “there’s… there’s _a lot_ you missed. A lot you need to know.”

May yawned, “it can wait.”

“Some of it, perhaps,” Simmons frowned, “but some of it is a little more urgent. Are you… are you terribly tired? You shouldn’t be. Or perhaps you should, I don’t know.”

“I beat up four agents at the same time this morning,” May grumbled, “I’d like to see you fight _one_ agent and not be tired.”

“See?” Agent Waverly called, “it’s psychosomatic. I’m a goddamn genius, Simmons.”

Simmons rolled her eyes, “you have no idea what you’re doing. We have no idea what we’ve done.”

May settled back against the pillows with a sigh, “is there anything so important you need to tell me that it can’t wait until morning, Simmons?”

Simmons considered that thoughtfully for a moment, then shook her head, “no, I suppose not. I… I suppose just that you’re so very loved.”

May rolled her eyes, carefully keeping the smile from her lips, “Alright, well, I don’t really care about that. Can you do something about that light? God, why do you need it so bright in here all the time?”

Simmons chuckled, “so that we can see? It’s getting late, so I’ll turn as many of them off as I can off. Goodnight, Agent May. Can I get you anything before I go?”

“No. Goodnight,” May nodded, fiddling with the controls on the bed so she could lie down flat again. There wasn’t much privacy in the lab: she wasn’t even off in one of the quarantine rooms, though that was a little more like being in a fishbowl anyway. Waverly and Simmons did turn off of the lights before they left the lab, leaving May in quiet silence, the room only illuminated by the light from the hallway and the various screens of the medical equipment. She stared up at the ceiling, unable to shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Two months, possessed by some terrible illness. And yet, it didn’t feel like much time had passed at all. How was that even possible?

 

֎

 

She woke up again some time later, to the strong smell of coffee.

She wrinkled her nose and glanced over to see a half-empty coffee cup sitting on the bedside table, and Coulson curled up in the chair next to her. He looked totally exhausted, like he’d just passed out in the chair, and May couldn’t help but smile at him a little. The poor worried idiot, he’d stressed himself to the point of collapse. She sat up a little, running her fingers through her hair, and pulled the top blanket off of the bed. She was still pretty tired herself, but she did manage to find enough energy to throw the blanket at Coulson. Unfortunately, her aim seemed to be a little off, and she threw it with enough force that part of it hit him in the face. That seemed to wake Coulson up, and he squinted over at her, bewildered.

“Melinda?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, “you’re awake. What… what are you doing? Did you just throw a blanket at my face?”

She shrugged, “you’re going to catch your death, Coulson.”

“So, it’s better that you do?” he snorted. He stood up and arched his back with a groan, then picked up the blanket and draped it over May again with a tired smile.

“ _Phil_ ,” May grumbled, “no. You’ll be cold.”

“I’ll live,” he told her firmly, “how are you? How are you feeling?”

May shrugged as she fumbled with the buttons on the side of the bed to adjust it into a sitting position so she could slouch back against it, “I’m… I’m okay. Tired. My head hurts. Come sit with me?”

Coulson sighed, but relented and sat down next her, and May shifted enough to rest her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

Coulson hummed sympathetically, “you’ve certainly been through the wars, haven’t you? It’s been a rough few weeks.”

“Mm. A rough few weeks. At least I don’t remember it,” May offered, and pulled the blanket over both of them, just happening to end up pressed a little closer to Coulson, “how are you?”

He chuckled, “I’m _fine_. Better now that you’re here. The real you. I missed you.”

May frowned, “wait… what do you mean? I’ve been right here… haven’t I?”

“Simmons didn’t tell you?” Coulson narrowed his eyes, “I thought she was going to tell you what happened.”

“No, I went to sleep instead,” May replied, rubbing her eyes.

Coulson snorted, “of course you did.”

“So, what happened?” May pressed him, “what happened?”

Coulson hesitated, “a… a _lot_ happened. Um. It’s a long story.”

“Two months long,” May remarked, “is there an abridged version?”

“There is,” Coulson hesitated, “I… I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have left, I should have been here when you woke up. I’m so, so sorry, Melinda. For everything. I’m sorry.”

May shook her head, burying her face into his shoulder, “don’t be sorry. I’m fine. I was only awake for a few minutes anyway before I passed out again.”

“Still,” Coulson protested, “I should have been there for you. I thought I had time, but I shouldn’t have taken the risk. I should have been there.”

“You’re being dumb,” May chided him before he could get himself worked up into one of his dramatic monologues, rolling her eyes, “it doesn’t matter, Coulson. You’re here now. That’s what matters. You’re here _now_.”

“I’m here now,” Coulson agreed, putting his arm around her shoulder and hugging her to his chest, “I’m not going to let anything else bad happen to you, I swear.”

May snorted, “how? What, are you firing me?”

“Never,” Coulson said instantly, “never.”

May smirked, “Then, what’s your plan? How can nothing bad ever happen to me, while I work for S.H.I.E.L.D., the never ending circus of bad things happening?”

Coulson hesitated, “I… I don’t know.”

“I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you getting some crazy idea in your head,” May chuckled affectionately, “honestly, Coulson. Everything’s alright now.”

“I hope so,” he sighed, “we’ve had enough trouble for now.”

May hummed in agreement, shifting to lie a little closer to him. She was still exhausted but growing thirsty (though, not thirsty enough to attempt to drink the cold coffee Coulson had left- hell would have long since frozen over before she attempted that).

“We got any water here?” she tried instead.

“I’ll get you some,” Coulson replied quickly, hopping out of bed. May felt the chill instantly as he took his body heat away with him, and she hugged the blanket around her.

“God, it’s cold,” she grumbled, “I always forget how cold it gets in this part of the base.”

“I thought you liked it cold?” Coulson asked.

“I do, when I’m working,” May shrugged, “and back in my room. But it’s awful in the lab. That’s why I never come down here.”

“Let them suffer on their own?” Coulson snorted, as he dug through SciTech’s fridge of assorted science nonsense, “I can make you some tea if you want.”

“Okay. But still the water too,” May told him.

“Well, what do you want?” Coulson sighed, as he handed her a water bottle, “this, or tea?”

May considered that for a moment, “I want both.”

Coulson chuckled, “you’re lucky you’re sick, and I feel bad for you. I’ll be back in a minute, alright?”

“Yeah, alright,” May agreed, settling back against the bed, and quickly draining the water bottle. She must have dozed back to sleep because she woke up to Coulson’s hand on her shoulder and some delicious smell that reminded her of home.

“Mm,” she yawned, squinting up at him, as he sat back down in his chair beside the bed, “since when did you learn to cook like my mom?”

He chuckled, “your mom’s given you enough food to last the winter. Come on, God knows you need to eat more.”

May frowned, “my mom? Is she here? Were things that bad?”

Coulson considered that, “yes, they were that bad, but no, she wasn’t here. Um, we went to visit her, actually.”

May considered that for a moment, “we went to see my mom? I thought that I was unconscious.”

Coulson shook his head, “no, you were conscious, for a while. The last month of it, you weren’t conscious. Well, not really. It’s hard to explain. Come on, eat.”

May couldn’t see any reason to argue against food and accepted the container from him. As soon as she started to eat, she realised how hungry she was, and as much as she wanted to press Coulson for more details about what had happened, her hunger took precedence.

“Tell me what happened,” she told him as she set the empty container down on the bedside table, “a brief summary, at least. I’m sure Simmons will give me the scientific nonsense tomorrow.”

Coulson hesitated as he handed her the mug of tea, “are you sure? It’s… complicated, and ugly, and I’m not sure I’ll tell it right.”

She nodded, “I’m sure. The last I know for certain is that Mace knocked me out, the bastard. You, and the strike team… they were infected, then? When did I get sick?”

Coulson winced at her remark about Mace, then paused for a moment before speaking, “you… you were the only one in our team to get sick, May. There were ghosts in the box, and they touched you and made you think that everyone around you had been possessed by demons of some sort, do you remember that?”

She nodded, frowning, “that… that was a _ghost_ , making me think that? Seriously?”

“Yep. It’s a unique way to go, at least,” Coulson offered.

May rolled her eyes, “sure. At least I didn’t really _go_ , then.”

Coulson hesitated, “well… not exactly. You did _die_ , very briefly. There was something in your brain, I don’t know exactly, but it was going to kill you, so Simmons and Radcliffe killed you first. Then brought you back, of course.”

May was silent for a moment, “I went crazy from being touched by a _ghost,_ and Simmons and Radcliffe _killed_ me.”

“Like I said. A unique way to go,” Coulson shrugged.

“And that took two months?” May frowned.

“No, that wasn’t long, only a day or two,” Coulson shook his head, “then you buried all that down with all your other emotions, and we all went ghost hunting.”

“Naturally,” May rolled her eyes, “I don’t remember that.”

Coulson shook his head, looking guilty, “no. No, you’ll never remember that. May, I’m so sorry. I… I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” May pressed him before he could get too caught up in apologising, “what happened next? We went ghost hunting?”

“Yeah, it all went back to Robbie’s uncle,” Coulson told her, though that meant nothing to May, “there was a portal to hell thing we send him and Robbie through, different to the dimension Robbie, Fitz, and I went to, I think… anyway, after that, things got a lot worse. You remember Radcliffe’s assistant AIDA?”

“No, I don’t think I met her,” May shook her head, not sure how things could get worse than a ‘ _portal_ _to hell’_ , or even what that was supposed to mean.

“Well, she was a robot,” Coulson informed her matter-of-factly, pausing to watch for her response.  

May blinked up at him incredulously, “Oh, you’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

He winced, “I wish I were. AIDA was a robot, well, _android_ as the kids say, and pretty quickly went full Murder-Bot. I mean, obviously. They always do. But she had read the Darkhold, which was this magic book of evil, which further complicated things.”

“A robot… and a magic book of evil,” May repeated, “right. Makes total sense.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to explain it well!” Coulson protested.

“So, the robot got a magic book,” May prompted him, “what could _possibly_ go wrong there?”

“Well, she didn’t have the book, that was the problem,” Coulson explained, “so, Radcliffe kidnapped you, and replaced you with a robot clone to get the book.”

May sighed, “sure, why not? A regular day at S.H.I.E.L.D., I guess. Did it work, or…?”

“Yeah, eventually. It was a perfect clone of you, brain and all, so obviously RoboMay got it in the end. Our went looking for you- the _real_ you- but got captured by AIDA and the Russian,” Coulson looked a little sheepish at that, “and then we all replaced by robot clones too.”

“Right,” May took a deep breath, “and the Russian is…?”

“Just some crazy guy with a murder grudge against me,” Coulson waved a hand dismissively, “anyway, the robot clones tried to take over S.H.I.E.L.D., so your robot clone blew everyone up.”

May took a moment to process _that_ bombshell of crazy, “right. Okay then. How did we escape your Russian buddy and the Murder-Bot? I don’t remember.”

“Well, we got put into a virtual prison, where AIDA rewrote everyone’s memories to make you and Fitz Hydra? I don’t know, Simmons will explain it better. Anyway, Daisy and Simmons forced everyone out, but we were the only ones who remembered the real world. You, Fitz, Mack… you only remembered the memories that AIDA gave you, of your virtual life in the Framework. You… you didn’t remember me, or any of this. Then, stupid Waverly came up with a ‘ _cure’_ , except it wasn’t a cure… it… they wiped your memories, May. Waverly and Simmons… they took the scan of your brain from when you died and used it to rewrite your memories. I’m so sorry. I… it’s what you wanted,” Coulson finished lamely.

May blinked at him for a moment, then shook her head and took a sip of her tea, “right. Sounds like a wild few months, then.”

“You’re taking it all much better than I expected,” he remarked, “you’re not even going to raise an eyebrow? I feel like you should. At a minimum.”

“Nope,” May shook her head, “it’s a little too ridiculous for that.”

Coulson frowned, “You do believe me, don’t you?”

“I believe you,” May assured him, “it’s just… it’s a lot to take in. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Coulson agreed, “but, um… you don’t have any questions? Thoughts? Feelings? Some non-verbal expression of emotion?”

May considered that for a moment, “I don’t think so? Um. I won’t remember it then? Ever? Am I going to start carving up walls or something?”

Coulson shook his head, “no, nothing like that. You won’t remember it, ever. I’m so sorry, May, I… I tried to stop you, tried to talk you out of it. You’d already made up your mind.”

“It was my choice then?” May asked.

He nodded, “yes. It was your choice. You were very insistent about sacrificing yourself to bring the _Real_ May back. And now, your memory is wiped away forever, and I-”

“Then it doesn’t matter,” May cut him off, “it was my choice.”

Coulson stared at her for a long moment, stunned, “of course it matters! May! They wiped your memories away! Of course it matters! How could it not?”

She sighed, “I’m not you, Coulson. I made a choice. Now, I live with it. It’s simple enough. And I doubt I’d want to remember ghosts and robots and magic books and virtual Hydra anyway.”

Coulson still looked bewildered, “you... God, Melinda, I know you’re the _unshakeable Melinda May_ , or whatever, but having your memories wiped away _should_ shake you! You should hate everyone for doing this to you! God, you should hate _me_ , May, because I did to you what you did to me, and I was so _cruel_ to you about it.”

May smiled a little at that, and shook her head, “it’s easier, to be on this side. I thought it would be so much harder, but it’s not. This is better.”

Coulson paused, “what does _that_ mean?”

She sighed, “it’s hard to explain. And I’m tired. I promise, if you remind me once I’m out of here, I’ll show you. Alright?”

“Alright,” Coulson agreed slowly, “is it something bad?”

May considered that thoughtfully, “I… I wouldn’t say _bad_. Not exactly. Will you sit with me, at least until I fall asleep again? I’m going to need your body heat to survive the night.”

“Changing the subject,” Coulson grumbled, but couldn’t hide the small smile on his face as he climbed into bed beside her, tucking the blankets around both of them and putting his arm around her shoulder, “I’ll stay, but only because I don’t want you to die again.”

“Fair enough,” May agreed, as she set her hand-finished mug of tea down next to Coulson’s coffee, and nestled against his side, “given all the trouble it’s been to bring me back, it’d be such a waste.”

“It would be,” he agreed, then added more quietly, “it’s good to have you back, May. Like this. I’ve had a few different versions of you now, but I still missed _this_ you.”

“Yeah?” May yawned, “what did you think of them? The other versions of me?”

“They were… nice,” Coulson finally decided on, “different, in their own ways. The LMD was pretty talkative, more assertive... the Framework you was… I don’t know. Scared and confused. She didn’t know what was going on most of the time, poor thing.”

May wrinkled her nose, “wasn’t she a Nazi? Virtual Hydra?”

Coulson paused, “I don’t think so. She was Hydra for a while, but she… she thought she was doing the right thing. She was just scared and doing terrible things to try and make up for something else.”

“Just like a Nazi,” May rolled her eyes, “why put up with her at all?”

“Because she was _you_ ,” Coulson hugged May a little closer at that, “and because I think she was a good person, underneath it all.”

May considered that, but couldn’t make any sense of it. Hydra were all Nazis, even if they were someone who had once been a friend. She’d found that out the hard way during the Hydra Uprising. She and Coulson both had. He seemed to take her silence as an invitation to go back to sleep and yawned, carefully adjusting the bed back down to lie flat. May settled a little closer to him then, curling into his side and resting her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest.

“Goodnight, May,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head lightly, “sweet dreams, and all that.”

“Yeah, you too,” she chuckled, and with the steady beating of his heart below her palm, she fell asleep once more.

 

֎


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May gets a chance to talk to her girls.

May woke again, much too warm.

She must have gotten colder at some point during the night because she’d ended up nearly lying on top of Coulson, face pressed to the crook of his neck and with a leg hitched up across his hip. He’d drawn her closer to him too, with both his arms loosely wrapped around her waist. She propped herself up on her elbows to look down at him thoughtfully. Coulson looked more at peace now, sleeping here with her, breathing steadily with the hint of a smile on his lips. With a sigh, May shifted to lie beside him, with a sigh as she rubbed her eyes.

“Agent May!”

May blinked up to see Simmons hopping off her chair and bounding over to the bed.

May yawned, sitting up slowly, so she didn’t disturb Coulson, “morning, Simmons.”

“Good morning, Agent May,” Simmons chirped, “how are you this morning?”

May considered that, “a lot better. Though, my head still hurts.”

Simmons hummed sympathetically, “yes, I’d think so. We’ve been doing a lot of work on your brain.”

“Right, the brain rewrite. Coulson already told me,” May waved a hand dismissively.

Simmons blinked at her for a moment, “oh. Alright, then. Um. How much did he tell you?”

May shrugged, “enough, I think. Ghosts, a portal to hell, robot clones, magic book, virtual Hydra. Not much more than that.”

“Right,” Simmons paused, “I… do you have any questions? I’ve written a detailed report for you, if you’d like, with some annotated mission reports for you.”

May rolled her eyes, “of course you did. Alright, where is it?”

Simmons smiled, pleased with herself, and went back to her desk and picked up a huge binder, offering it to May.

“You have been busy,” May remarked dryly.

Simmons shrugged modestly, “I like to be prepared.”

May flicked it open to the first page- a lengthy report on the storage crates recovered from the Chinatown Crew, and did her best not to roll her eyes. Sweet, detail-oriented Simmons.

“Where is everyone?” May asked instead, “SciTech usually isn’t this quiet.”

Simmons paused, “do you know about Mace?”

“The new Director?” May frowned, “Yeah. I know about him. What, is he running a compulsory trust workshop for everyone?”

“He passed away, a few days ago,” Simmons told her gently, “most of the base is at his funeral.”

May paused, “oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright, you didn’t know him that well,” Simmons assured her, “none of us did, really. I wrote you a report on him too!”

“Should I be grading this?” May rolled her eyes.

Simmons shrugged, “I mean… you can if you want. Do you want a pen, or…?”

May sighed, “sure. Thank you.”

“Would you like me to make you some tea?” Simmons offered as she handed her a pen, “I’m sure Coulson will want some coffee.”

May nodded, “sure, I will, thank you. But leave Coulson, he needs his sleep.”

Simmons smiled, “of course, Agent May.”

 

֎

 

Simmons certainly got an A for effort. She’d written a few dozen reports on every incident that had happened from May’s death, up to and including her memory restoration. No minute detail seemed to have been spared, even details of random missions May hadn’t even been involved in. Coulson remained by her side for a few more hours, fast asleep, one arm still draped around her waist. This quiet peacefulness couldn’t last forever of course: eventually, he yawned, shifting a little closer towards her.

May smiled for a second, “morning, Coulson. Good sleep?”

“Very,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, and sitting up, “did you? You’re awake early. Didn’t you sleep well? I-”

“I did, you’re just up late,” May cut him off with a roll of her eyes, “everything’s _fine_ , Coulson.”

He smiled at that, “that’s good, then. What are you reading?”

“Simmons wrote me a thousand and one reports on what everyone has done for every second of every day since I died,” May replied.

Coulson snorted, “I told you she’d explain it better than me. Where is she?”

“Getting more tea,” May replied, “you’re a few minutes too late for coffee, I’m afraid.”

Coulson groaned, pulling a face, “ugh, that’s terrible. How’s your report?”

May hesitated, “it’s very detailed. Incredibly so.”

Coulson watched her thoughtfully for a moment, “so, what are you missing, then?”

May shrugged, “I don’t think she’s missed anything. If anything, she’s gotten too much.”

Coulson shook his head, “no, you’re missing something. What’s troubling you?”

May rolled her eyes, “nothing’s troubling me. I just don’t like being here.”

Coulson rolled his eyes, “well, when you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.”

May just pulled a face, closing the binder. He wasn’t going to let it go, and she wasn’t going to open up. Unmoveable, unstoppable, etc. Coulson, seeing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with May here, stood up, trying to smooth out his wrinkled suit with a tired sigh.

“Not going to work,” May told him, “go get changed.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I know. I’ll wait until Simmons gets back.”

May snorted, “I’m an adult, Coulson. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“The last time we left you all alone, you got kidnapped by a Murder-Bot,” he retorted, “forgive me for being cautious.”

“There’s being cautious, and there’s being _ridiculous_ ,” May grumbled, “I can handle myself.”

“I know you can,” Coulson agreed, “humour me, at least.”

May pulled a face, “I’d rather not, but I don’t exactly have a choice.”

Coulson shrugged sympathetically,

“Your tea, Agent May,” Simmons chirped as she re-entered the lab, “oh! Good morning, Agent Coulson! Shall I get you some coffee?”

“No need, I’ll get some later,” Coulson waved a hand dismissively, “I’ll be back in a little while. Don’t bother Simmons too much, alright May?”

May rolled her eyes, and Simmons was quick to defend her.

“Don’t worry, Agent Coulson, she’s never any trouble!” Simmons assured him, “here, May, have your tea. Carefully, it’s hot.”

“I would hope so,” May grumbled, “that’s how it’s meant to be.”

Coulson and Simmons both shared a fond smile, and May couldn’t help but reminisce back to when the junior agents all feared her.

“I’ll be back soon,” Coulson promised as he left, and Simmons sat down in the chair next to May.

“How’d you find it?” Simmons asked eagerly, nodding to the report.

May shrugged, “it’s incredibly well done. You have an eye for detail.”

Simmons beamed at her, “Thank you, Agent May! You liked it? Do you have any questions?”

May rolled her eyes, “there’s nothing left to have questions about.”

Simmons frowned, watching May’s face carefully, “is everything alright, Agent May?”

“Everything is fine,” May replied, for what felt like the millionth time, “why wouldn’t it be?”

Simmons considered that, “well, there’s a lot that’s happened that you’d have every right to be upset about. It’s alright if you’re scared or upset or angry.”

“I’m not,” May snapped, “I just don’t want to be here.”

Simmons considered that for a moment, “Okay then. I’ll see what I can do.”

May frowned, “what?”

“I know you don’t like being the lab, so I’ll see what I can do to get you out,” Simmons shrugged, standing up, “I don’t want you to be unhappy, May.”

May was silent for a moment, unsure of what had just happened, “you’re going to let me go?”

Simmons smiled a little at that, “you’re not my prisoner, May. You’re my friend. I hope you know that.”

May didn’t know how to respond to that, so decided to ignore it, “what happened? Where is this coming from?”

Simmons shrugged, “I, um… I talked a lot, to the Other May, from the Framework.”

“Did you?” May frowned, “what did you two talk about?”

“A lot of things,” Simmons smiled fondly, “the only thing you remembered about me what that you didn’t want me to be unhappy… you called me ‘ _sweetheart’_ … and you told me that you loved me.”

“Doesn’t sound like me at all,” May snorted, “I hope you’re not expecting an encore.”

“Don’t worry, May,” Simmons assured her, “I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Right,” May agreed slowly, “Okay then.”

Simmons nodded and leant over to kiss May’s forehead, “okay then. I’ll see if I can get some wireless medical monitors for you. Sit tight.”

May nodded her acquiescence, and Simmons smiled down at her fondly, before going off to search the med bay. Feeling a little unsettled, May watched her in silence for a few moments. How odd, that the other version of her had been so open about her feelings. What else had she told people? Had she just wandered the base, telling everyone how she felt about them? God… what had she told _Phil_?

“Why do you hate the lab so much anyway? I never did ask you that,” Simmons sounded almost remorseful, though May had no idea why she would. Since when did anyone care about what she was feeling anyway?

“Um. I don’t know. I just don’t like hospitals, I guess. Nothing good every gets you in, and nothing good ever happens while you’re there,” May shrugged dismissively, “why does it matter?”

“I never asked,” Simmons said again, “I never asked you all these things, even though I probably should have. And then, there was a time when I thought I might not ever have the opportunity to ask ever again… I don’t know. Getting to know the Framework version of you just made me realise how little I know the real you. I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to get to know you better.”

May just nodded, bewildered, “it’s alright. I… I don’t think anyone did.”

Simmons sighed, “we’re supposed to be a team and a _family_ , and I don’t know a thing about you. I… I didn’t even _think_ about how scary dying would have been for you. Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing in the world? I didn’t think you could get scared.”

May rolled her eyes, “Fortunately, I don’t.”

Simmons just shook her head, “yes, you do. I just didn’t see it before.”

May was silent then, unsure of how to respond. Simmons didn’t push the point any further, and simply returned to the bed and carefully began to unpeel monitors off May, attaching a medical monitor to her wrist in their place.

“I’ll still need a lot more scans, of course, but I can come to you for those if you’d like,” Simmons offered, “somewhere you’d be more comfortable. You don’t have to come back to the lab if you don’t want to.”

May nodded, her heart warming a little at that, “I… thank you, Jemma. Really.”

Simmons smiled at that, removing the machine from May’s head, and helping her to get out of bed, “there we go, then. Good work. You’re going to be very tired, so try to rest up for the next few days, and get plenty to eat.”

May rolled her eyes, “you sound like my mom.”

“She sounds incredibly wise, and you should listen to her,” Simmons retorted. May just rolled her eyes, and carefully took her first few unsteady steps. Simmons was right, she was still pretty tired, and her body ached in protest of having to move again after a month of inactivity in the Framework. But Melinda May was nothing if not stubborn, and decided to ignore it for now.

“I’ll be alright,” May decided, “I’m sure I can manage _walking_ , after all.”

“Of course,” Simmons nodded, “I’ll come by to see you in few hours, alright, Agent May?”

“Alright,” May agreed, then added, “you don’t have to call me Agent May, you know.”

Simmons smiled apologetically, “I know, I’m sorry. It confused the Framework version of you too. Old habits die hard, I’m afraid.”

“It’s alright,” May replied, “We're family, after all.”

Simmons beamed at that, and threw her arms around May, drawing her into a tight embrace. May was caught off guard but managed to keep her balance, and with a pointed sigh of fake reluctance, wrapped her arms around Simmons too.

 

֎

 

May took her time wandering back to her room, nodding politely to all the returning agents that were scatted throughout the hallways. They didn’t seem to be looking at her any differently, in spite of everything, just the same awe-struck respect that she’d always gotten. Perhaps things weren’t so bad after all. Perhaps it really had all been just another few months at S.H.I.E.L.D., and everyone was too desensitised to care, even the newer agents. In the gym next to her room, she was shocked for a minute to see Daisy pounding away at the sandbag, until she remembered Simmons’ reports. Right, Daisy was back- at least for now. She leant against the doorway for a minute, watching her thoughtfully. She hadn’t seen the girl in months, but she looked more or less how May had remembered her. Still troubled, still angry, still too emotional.

“You need to concentrate more,” May chided her, causing Daisy to spin around in alarm, “your hits are all over the place.”

“Sorry,” Daisy panted, “I wasn’t aware this was an assessment.”

May shrugged, “it’s always an assessment.”

Daisy just rolled her eyes, still panting heavily, but didn’t comment any further.

May frowned, “what, no snarky retort? Vigilante life has changed you.”

Daisy ran her fingers through her hair, “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” May echoed, “right. So, how long are you staying for?”

“Staying for? I’m just finishing up now, if you want,” Daisy shrugged, “I’ll head back to my room then.”

“Freeze,” May said, and Daisy stopped in the middle of leaving, albeit a little reluctantly, “I mean, how long are you staying with S.H.I.E.L.D. for this time?”

“Staying with S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Daisy repeated, then realisation dawned on her face, “you don’t remember right. I’m back now. Permanently, I think.”

May nodded, struggling to keep the smile off her face, “I see. You don’t sound pleased.”

Daisy shrugged, “yeah, whatever, I guess. Wasn’t really my choice to come back, but I guess I’m here now.”

“I’m sure the team is happy to know you’re safe,” May offered, “they were all pretty upset when you took off on us.”

Daisy pulled a face, “yeah, that was a bad call.”

“It was,” May agreed easily. Daisy just nodded and headed off to pick up her bag. May frowned: something was off about her.

“What happened?” May asked, folding her arms, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Daisy lied.

May rolled her eyes, “Oh? Nothing? When is _nothing_ ever wrong with anyone?”

“So, what’s wrong with you?” Daisy countered, looking pleased with herself.

May sighed, “what’s wrong with me, is that you’re in a _mood_ , and you won’t tell me why. Did I do something? One of the other versions of me?”

Daisy hesitated, which May took as a yes.

“What was it?” May pressed her, “which one?”

Daisy sighed, “it’s nothing, it’s _stupid_. It’s just… the Framework May said some stuff about inhumans. You know, about how you felt about them.”

“Ah,” May said uncomfortably, “I see. And you think that’s how I feel too?”

“It would make sense, if you did hate me,” Daisy shrugged, in a poor attempt to sound indifferent, “I’m an inhuman, after all. You hate us.”

“Do I?” May retorted, “you think I hate all inhumans?”

Daisy sighed, “she said you tried to _kill_ yourself after Bahrain. Is that true?”

May was silent, heart pounding against her chest and undoubtedly sending off some terrible results to Simmons.

“Yes,” she said finally, “that’s true.”

“And I threw that in your face because of what Jaiying told me about it,” Daisy sighed, sounding almost tearful there, “like it didn’t matter to you, even though I knew it did. After all I’ve done to you, after what happened with Andrew… it would make sense, if you didn’t want to love me. I get it, May.”

May sighed, unfolding her arms, and running her fingers through her hair. _Oh_. That was a lot to take in this early in the morning.

“Daisy,” May started slowly, taking a deep breath, “of course I still love you. Being an inhuman doesn’t change that. It didn’t change how I felt, for you or for Andrew.”

Daisy blinked at her, bewildered, “ _what_? How could it not?”

“Evidently, I’m not as narrow-minded as a _Nazi_ ,” May retorted, rolling her eyes, “Honestly, Daisy. She was _Hydra_.”

Daisy looked defensive, “she was still _you_.”

“She was a Nazi remake of me,” May corrected her, “it’s not the same thing. You are not just an inhuman, Daisy.”

Daisy hesitated, “do you hate inhumans?”

May sighed, “no, I don’t. At least, I don’t think I do. I… we get to decide how we respond to the things that people do to us, Daisy. Being scared, being hateful… that’s a choice. And that’s not a choice I’ve made, at least not in this life.”

Daisy seemed to accept that, offering May a weak smile. At least that seemed to take some off the weight off Daisy’s shoulders, though May could tell there was still something else bothering her.

“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up, then,” Daisy nodded curtly, “Thank you. Um. For clarifying.”

May snorted, “sure. Anytime, Agent.”

Daisy picked up her bag, and May decided to let her leave then, stepping back from the doorway towards her room. Daisy got partway down the hallway before stopping, turning around to look back at May.

“You know… she said you were like my mom,” Daisy offered, trying to sound nonchalant. May kept her face perfectly neutral, because apparently she was the only real professional secret agent at S.H.I.E.L.D. these days.

“She sounds like she didn’t know how she felt about anything,” May replied, hoping that was enough.

“Sure, I guess,” Daisy agreed, “um. It’s just a little weird, you know? Where did she even get that from, right?”

May shrugged, “I think we both know where.”

Daisy’s face broke into a sincere smile then, and May couldn’t help but smile back.

 

֎


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May finds a letter, which leads to more unexpected consequences from her time away.

Back safely in her room, May felt like she could finally breathe easily again. Even though nothing had changed for her, everyone else seemed to have changed, or at least have just changed how they treated _her_. She could hear Coulson still in the shower, and was grateful that he was still normal- or, normal for Coulson. Running her fingers through her hair with a sigh, she was pleased to find her room hadn’t been disturbed by either of her replacements, except for the old photos of Maui being pulled out again and a piece of folded paper left out on her desk, labelled;

_Melinda Q. May_

She blinked at it for a moment, puzzled, until she realised where it must have come from: left behind for her by one of the other version of her that had been running around the base: the robot or the Nazi.

“Great,” she muttered under her breath, as she picked it up, “they’re leaving notes around, are they? As if I don’t have enough to deal with.”

If only for lack of anything better to do, she sat down on her bed with a sigh and opened it.

_Dear Melinda,_

_I don’t know if you remember being me, but I’ve been acting in your place for the last few days. I hope that Waverly’s cure works for you, and puts an end to this nightmare. You’ve got a good life here, but I don’t think I deserve to be the one who lives it._

_When I first came to this world, I was certain it must have been better than what I had in the Framework. You are much luckier than me, in many regards. Mom and Dad are still alive here, and you have a team, and all your friends… but then, there’s Bahrain, or what came after Bahrain, I guess. I was sorry to hear you had such a difficult time after it, I remember how hard it was for me, dealing with what the little monster was capable of. You have no idea what you prevented, but it was worth it. Whatever cost you paid, it was worth the hundreds of lives you saved._

_I may not understand your life here, but I think it’s a good one. Your girls are very sweet, even though one of them is a monster. You must be a better person than me, to tolerate inhumans after all they’ve done to you. After all, that disease took your husband from you twice- you must be much braver than me, to be around those creatures at all. I wonder if your Andrew was one of the inhumans we eliminated in the Framework- perhaps AIDA eliminated him early on like she had to do with Simmons for Leopold Fitz. You must have loved him a lot, for me to have never been allowed to meet him at all._

_But, then there’s Phil. He was in the Framework, perhaps still in love with you then. I am very grateful for how kind he has been to me here, although you’re the one he’s in love with. Perhaps he just put up with me so he wouldn’t have to mourn you, or so that I could forgive him in your place for not finding you soon enough or for believing the robot May would was really you loving him back. I wish I knew how you felt about him: I don’t know if I fell in love with him because you loved him first, or if I did that on my own, but I’ll miss him the most._

_I suppose what matters most to me is that you don’t waste this second chance. I’m dying for you, you know, or something like that. You better be happy here, because you’re so lucky to have any of this at all. You have a partner still, who’s alive and who is madly in love with you. You have your friends, who came all the way out to Virginia to have lunch with you and break into your house to check up on you, which was weird admittedly, but also really nice. You have two almost daughters, who still love you even though they don’t know anything about you, not even what your laugh sounds like. You don’t even visit your parents here, and I had to bury them. Can you imagine what it was like? To say goodbye to both of them, on the same day? I didn’t even know I could cry so much. Try to be a better daughter, alright? Because when they die, you’ll regret it._

_Don’t waste this second chance, Melinda. Because next time you die, it’s far more likely to end with Phil and that scrapbook, not with you. There won’t be a third chance. I don’t know what more you want out of your life, but this is your last chance to get it. Don’t waste it._

_Good luck with whatever you chose to do next,_

_Agent Melinda Q. May_

May reread it half a dozen times, before folding it up again, and getting up to tuck it away in her desk drawer. That… that was a lot. That was a lot to take in, all from a person who’d died to bring her home. How was she supposed to deal with that?

So, the Framework version of her had gone willingly then, or so it seemed. She’d let herself be erased to allow for May to come back. She did seem to hate inhumans, though May wasn’t quite sure why: Simmons’ report had discussed “the Cambridge Incident” of the Framework, but had that been enough to turn her into this person? Was enduring Bahrain really the better end of the deal? Even her Framework version hadn’t been sure. And yet, her hatred of inhumans hadn’t seemed to stop the Framework May from mourning Andrew, though she’d never met him! How could she mourn an inhuman, while loathing them?

And then Coulson. May inhaled sharply, folding her arms, and shook her head. God only knows what the Framework May had said to Coulson… or what the LMD had done. Had she really fallen in love with him? Did he know? God, what if the Framework May had told him how she _felt_ about him, how they both felt? May hadn’t been able to put it into words yet, but she wanted to be the one to do it, not some Nazi clone…

“May?”

She froze for a micro-second, turning around to offer Coulson a curt nod. His hair was still wet, shirt unbuttoned, and but he looked pleased to see her.

He grinned, “hey, you’re out! Simmons released you?”

May shrugged, “apparently, she had a change of heart.”

“Everything alright?” Coulson frowned, stepping into the room.

May shrugged, “just thinking.”

“Anything you want to talk about?” Coulson offered.

May rolled her eyes, “I’m _fine_.”

Coulson sighed, “you know that’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t need to talk,” May replied, “nor do I want to.”

“Not about anything?” Coulson tried, “there’s a lot that’s happened.”

“A lot happens every day,” May shrugged dismissively.

“Sure,” Coulson agreed slowly, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth talking about.”

May snorted, “is HR handing out emotional wellbeing pamphlets now?”

“We don’t talk anymore,” Coulson explained.

“We’ve never really talked,” May retorted.

“We did, back before Bahrain,” Coulson argued, “occasionally after. Don’t you think it’d be nice to get your thoughts and feelings out in the open?”

“No,” May scoffed, “what kind of afterschool special nonsense is that?”

Coulson sighed, “look, I guess it’s a little corny, but I just want to make sure you know you have someone you can talk to. And you need to talk to someone about this. Even if it’s not me.”

“We’re Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” May replied stubbornly, “this is what we do every day.”

“This isn’t like every other day,” Coulson tried, “what has happened, these last few weeks? Dying? Being replaced by a robot? Getting your memories rewritten? That’s not a standard op.”

“Whatever,” May shrugged indifferently, “it doesn’t matter.”

“It _should_ matter!” Coulson finally snapped, throwing his hands in the air, “you _died_! You were possessed, for God’s sake May, thinking everyone in the base had been turned into a monster. How can you pretend like that doesn’t matter to you, not even a little bit? How can you pretend that didn’t scare you?”

“It did,” she interjected, “okay? I remember _that_. I remember how much it _terrified_ me. But I can’t be the person who gets scared, so I don’t. It’s simple enough.”

His expression softened, “Yes, you can. You can with me.”

“I don’t want to,” May shook her head.

Coulson sighed, and came to sit down on her bed, “at least come sit with me, alright?”

May sighed but had to concede to that much. Reluctantly, she sat down beside him, folding her arms, “happy?”

“I am,” Coulson half-smiled at that, “look, I’m not expecting you to monologue about your feelings-”

“Good,” May interjected.

“I just want to talk. Just for a little while,” he assured her, “not about much. Okay? Just tell me one thing that’s bothering you. Just _one_ thing.”

May shifted uncomfortably, “what kind of thing?”

“Anything. How about your death?” Coulson suggested.

“Okay,” May sighed, biting her lower lip, “I just… I don’t understand why he hated me so much. I don’t _care_ , I just think it’s… odd. I wasn’t aware he had a grudge against me.”

Coulson frowned, “what do you mean? He didn’t kill you on purpose.”

“I know, I know, it was to save me or whatever,” May rolled her eyes, “so first, he takes my life, then my freedom… then my past, my present, my future. He took _everything_ from me, Coulson, _everything_.”

Coulson hesitated, “ _oh_. I… I don’t think it was _hate_ , May, I just… he was ridiculously self-absorbed. I don’t think he thought of you as a real person too.”

“No, I suppose he didn’t,” May scoffed, “it all feels like some kind of cruel joke: Melinda May got replaced by a robot, and no one knew the difference. I’m sure that will make another great Legend of the Cavalry.”

“Oh, _Melinda_ ,” Coulson murmured and took her hands in his tightly, “Oh, they’re not going to do that. We all got replaced by robots. No one is going to think anything of _you_ for being replaced because we _all_ did.”

“But you’re not the Cavalry,” May reminded him quietly, “they don’t think of me like the rest of you. Just like you said with Radcliffe: they don’t think of me as a real person.”

Coulson was silent for a moment, “I know. It’s cruel of them.”

May nodded, biting her lower lip, then sighed, “it doesn’t matter. It is what it is.”

Coulson offered her a tight-lipped smile, “I know. But it doesn’t make it any easier to live with, does it?”

May smiled a little at that, “no, it does _not_. But I’m alright, Phil. _Really_. It’s been, what, almost a decade since Bahrain now? I’m okay.”

Coulson squeezed her hand reassuring, “yeah, you are much better now. I know. You came back from a state that few people come back from. You should be proud of yourself.”

May rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“Thank you,” Coulson said sincerely, “I mean it. Thank you for talking to me. I know it’s still difficult for you to talk a lot.”

May nodded, “Um. The other versions of me... Were they better at talking?”

“The LMD did a little more,” Coulson agreed, “the Framework version was more inquisitive than open. They were both a little more open… more affectionate.”

“Not that that’s hard,” May scoffed, “it’s easier for them. They don’t have to deal with… _consequences_.”

“What consequences?” Coulson frowned.

“Simmons is guilty about not being my best friend, Daisy thinks I’m a racist, and you-” May stopped suddenly, but not soon enough.

“What about me?” Coulson pressed her, “what _consequences_ would there be then?”

May hesitated, taking back her hands from his, and folding them in her lap, “well… the Framework May left me a letter.”

“Alright,” Coulson agreed slowly, “what was in the letter?”

“A few things,” May shrugged, “about my parents, about her life, _my_ life, Andrew, Bahrain-”

“And about me,” Coulson cut her off, clearly growing impatient, “what did she have to say about me?”

May sighed, “that you were good to her, but she wasn’t sure why. That you didn’t want to mourn me… and that you wanted to be forgiven, for not finding me sooner, and for believing that the Robot May loved you back.”

Coulson inhaled sharply, “ _Oh_.”

“So, there’s that to deal with too,” May sighed, shifting a little uncomfortably, “like I said. _Consequences_. From both the LMD and for the Framework versions of me.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Coulson said instantly, “it was me.”

“What happened?” May asked, “do _you_ want to talk about it?”

Coulson pulled a face, “probably about as much as you wanted to talk. But I made you talk, didn’t I?”

May rolled her eyes, “you can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.”

“I do, sometimes,” Coulson corrected her.

May just pulled a face, “so, what do you need to tell me?”

“I, um… I kissed your robot clone,” Coulson finally admitted, bowing his head, “That’s why it took so long to find you. Radcliffe programmed her to make advances on me, and I wanted to believe it was true so badly, that I didn’t question it.”

“I see,” May said, if only for lack of anything better to say.

“It’s all my fault, May. I… God, I’m so sorry,” he shook his head, “you were _kidnapped_ , and I wasn’t even looking for you!”

May sighed, “you didn’t know, Phil. Simmons said it was a perfect replica, with my brain and everything. It’s not exactly an Agent 33 situation. How could you possibly tell my real brain from an exact copy? Even FitzSimmons didn’t notice the difference.”

“I should have,” Coulson replied stubbornly, “I’m your partner. I should have known. I… I should have noticed immediately, destroyed the robot clone, and went looking for you. But I didn’t because I was too selfish to care. I wanted to be with you, even if _you_ didn’t want to. I was selfish, and you were kidnapped and tortured and could have _died_ , and I was doing nothing!”

May snorted, “do you really need to work yourself up into these ridiculous states of guilt every time I’m not around to stop you?”

Coulson sighed, “this is serious, Melinda.”

“So am I,” May countered, “this was not your fault. And beating yourself up over it won’t change anything, or get you back the time that you lost.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, “you deserved better.”

May shrugged, “probably. But I like having you anyway.”

Coulson snorted in spite of himself, “this is serious, come on!”

“Listen,” May said slowly, reaching over to take one of his hands, “you… you couldn’t have known, alright? You made the best call you could have made with the information you had at the current time. The idea that Radcliffe could steal someone’s brain and replace them with a robot clone is still insane to even imagine. _There was no way you could have known_. Try to get that through your thick skull, alright?”

“You don’t really do comforting, do you?” Coulson scoffed but smiled anyway.

May rolled her eyes, “well, you’re the one who wanted the _real_ Melinda May back. You get what you asked for. No take backs.”

“Good,” Coulson grinned, “good. I missed you. Are we going to be alright then? This doesn’t… this won’t change anything between us, right?”

May hesitated, “ _did_ anything change?”

Coulson considered that for a moment, “they did a little, I guess. We… we were closer. We were _dating_ , or anything but… I think we were more than friends. At least, a little bit more, for a little while. I don’t know, maybe I’m just making myself crazy about that too.”

“Maybe. But I guess things have been… a little different between us lately,” May admitted slowly.

Coulson looked up at her with a frown, “have they? For you too? You remember that?”

May nodded, “yeah. Not as much as you, clearly but I… things were changing.”

“In a good way, or a bad way?” Coulson asked.

May paused, “I thought it was good.”

Coulson smiled, squeezing her hand, “I thought it was good too.”

May smiled a little in spite of herself, then shook her head and stood up, “I… I’m going to have a shower. Then… I mean, maybe we could get lunch. If you’re not too busy. Everyone’s getting back from Mace’s funeral now from the sounds of things, so I know you must-”

Coulson just grinned up at her, “I don't. And even if I did, I’m never too busy for you.”

 

֎


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May takes care of some old work.

The shower had always been a place of refuge for May. After Bahrain, she’d been able to sob her heart out and then wash all her tears away, letting her panic attack wash down the drain with no evidence she’d fallen apart at all. Today, she didn’t have it in her to cry, even though she wondered if she ought to. She did feel oddly violated, though she couldn’t quite it explain it: she’d been kidnapped plenty of times before, and occasionally by people she knew. Something about this time was different, cutting her more deeply than usual.

Perhaps it was that they’d been inside her brain, messing with her mind and playing with her memories. Radcliffe had taken Bahrain out of her brain, examined it like it was just some flaw in a programme, then rewrote it to _fix_ her. She scoffed at that, glowering at the wall. As if she was just some broken thing that needed to be fixed. She’d never asked for that, she’d never wanted that. She didn’t need anyone to fix her: not Coulson, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not Andrew, and certainly not Radcliffe. She didn’t need to be fixed. Even if she wasn’t who the wanted her to be, she was content with her life. What gave Radcliffe the right to decide she wasn’t happy enough or hadn’t recovered fast enough? What gave him the right to decide she needed to be forcibly repaired, even if she didn’t want to? Even the Framework version of her had been able to tell that she had a good life going here.

That was another thing: perhaps it was that she’d been replaced _again_ , cloned by some madman, that had made it so personal. No one had noticed the difference between her and the LMD, which was bad enough. Though Coulson assured her that she wasn’t the only one, she was the first, and she’d been gone the longest. After all the thoughtless remarks she had endured about being an emotionless murderous robot, it felt especially cruel that it had come true. No one had been able to tell the difference between her and the robot, not even her team.

Then she’d been replaced by the Framework version of her, some hateful Hydra commander who’d occupied her body. No matter how much she scrubbed her skin now, she could never wash that out of her. Some Nazi monster had been inside her body, inside her head, and had lived her life for her. She seemed a hateful sort of person, judging by her letter: she hadn’t bothered to make any attempt to her disgust towards inhumans. And yet, she had still seemed to love Coulson and claimed he’d been in love with her too. May’s heart skipped a beat at that. Had she been right? Was Coulson in love with her? She shook her head. That couldn’t be right. Sure, things were changing between them, and there was a possibility of something… _romantic_ developing between them. But he couldn’t possibly be in love with her. And even if he was, why would he tell the Framework version of her?

 She sighed, shutting off the water. She wasn’t going to get any answers, especially not out of her rewritten mind. There was nothing else to but move on with her life. Dwelling on the past never ended well. Drying herself off, she found peace in the familiar motions of her morning routine, blow-drying and curling her hair and applying her makeup with the perfect precision she’d been raised to perform every task with. Now at least she looked like herself, even if she didn’t feel quite right on the inside. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, she let herself into Coulson’s room and found him engrossed in some paperwork at his desk, and felt an instant pang of guilt about all the work she’d missed over the past two months. How well had her replacements filled her shoes?

“Funny how now that I don’t work in administration you can do your paperwork all on your own,” May remarked, rolling her eyes.

Coulson glanced up at her with a smile, “funny how you always managed to find time to come down and rewrite and file all my papers with me.”

May shrugged dismissively, “it’s not like my work there was particularly demanding. Besides, it’s not like you ever needed much help, not really.”

“Maybe not,” Coulson agreed, “but it’s always nice to have a second pair of eyes. Especially yours.”

May smiled in spite of herself, then shook her head, “well, I’ve got plenty of paperwork experience now, at least. I should check in on my office.”

“Yeah, sure,” Coulson agreed absently, “I’ll show you the way in a minute.”

May scoffed, “… I know the way.”

Coulson looked bewildered for a moment, blinking up at her with a frown, “how do you… oh, right! You remember now, of course.”

“I remember now,” May nodded, “you spent a lot of time with the Framework version of me?”

He nodded, “yeah. I don’t think she trusted anyone else. Except for your mom, I guess.”

May smiled at that, “well, at least we have one thing in common. Meet me at my office when you’re finished up here?”

“Are you sure?” Coulson frowned, “I won’t be much longer.”

“I need to check in anyway,” May shrugged, “I’ll only be a few minutes away, then we can go.”

Coulson grinned at that, “we can. Alright. I’ll see you soon.”

 

֎

 

May had claimed Vault B as her office when they’d first arrived at the Playground: in the beginning, she was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s entire administration department (though fortunately, they’d picked up more administrators when they combined with the other S.H.I.E.L.D., the A.C.T.U., and re-legitimised). She worked alone, which was nice: the vault was big enough for her to not feel claustrophobic but small enough to not encourage anyone else to move in with her… or perhaps that was just caused by her reputation.

Someone had left her personnel file on her desk: with a tired sigh, May filed it away again, trying not to wonder too much about who had been poking through it. It didn’t matter now anyway. She lived in the present, not the past, and certainly not in someone else’s life. At her desk, she unlocked her drawer and checked through her various burner phones, finding that she had dozens of missed calls on most of them. So, people had been trying to get in contact with her then, including people who rarely checked in with her: Romanoff, Hill, the Bartons… everyone had suddenly decided that they needed to call her apparently. Had they suspected something was wrong? Had they known she was missing?

She glanced up when the vault’s door opened, silently pleased to find it was Coulson. He smiled at her, but it faltered when he noticed the phones across her table.

“Everything okay?” he asked, nodding at the table.

“Yes, of course,” she lied, but he didn’t seem convinced, “my clones just didn’t follow up on my contacts, it seems.”

“Right. Looks like you’ve got work to do,” Coulson remarked, sounding a little disappointed.

“It’s fine,” May assured him, “I… I’ll just check a few, and then we can go.”

“No, you need to take care of this, clearly. Look, how about you catch up on two months’ worth of work and I bring you some lunch instead?” Coulson suggested, “then tonight, we could go out, and get dinner, together… just the two of us?”

May hesitated, “are you sure you don’t mind?”

Coulson smiled, “no, it’s fine, really. You’ll feel better once it’s taken care of.”

May rolled her eyes, “that depends on what I find.”

 

֎

 

What she found only made her even more troubled. It seemed this wasn’t the first time she’d contacted many of her friends over the past few months: Laura claimed that Romanoff had confirmed she’d seen her in person a few days ago at her mom’s house.

 _“Are you sure you don’t remember?”_ Laura tried, _“Nat was sure it was you at your mom's house, after all! Don't you remember any of it? Who was that, then?”_

May paused, “just because I don’t remember, doesn’t mean it wasn’t me, I suppose. Besides, it’s hardly the first time I’ve been replaced, Laura. We talked about Agent 33, remember? Just because someone looks like-”

 _“An agent doesn’t mean they are one,”_ Laura finished for her, _“I know, I know. Hydra stuff. That’s why Nat went to see you in person! She didn’t believe my assessment apparently.”_

May sighed, “well, you’re pretty easy to fool, Laura.”

 _“You’re a terrible friend,”_ Laura complained, _“Nat said you fooled your mom! You fooled Coulson, for God’s sake! What more proof do you need? Who was it?”_

“Oh, it was me,” May said dismissively, “just… not me. It’s a long story, Laura.”

 _“Right,”_ Laura agreed slowly, _“a story you can’t tell me then?”_

“A story that I can’t quite explain yet,” May replied, “but I’m fine now. Got some memories back, and lost some. You know how it is.”

Laura snorted at that, _“Oh sure, super common stuff, Melinda. God, S.H.I.E.L.D. is the worst. Why do you all put up with getting your brains wiped all the time?”_

“This is only the second time we know about it happening,” May offered, “if that helps.”

 _“Right. Just you and Coulson,”_ Laura hummed thoughtfully, _“you don’t think that sort of thing could happen to Clint, do you?”_

“I doubt anyone he’s still in contact with has that kind of technology,” May remarked lightly, “he’s keeping out of trouble.”

 _“You remember how to contact him?”_ Laura asked delightedly.

“I do,” May agreed, “and I’ll touch base again when it’s safe to do so.”

 _“You’ve heard from him? Recently?”_ Laura pressed her, _“Do you know where he is?”_

“I do,” May agreed slowly, “in a general sense.”

Laura sighed, _“and I suppose you aren’t going to tell me, are you?”_

“You know I can’t,” May reminded her, “Clint wants to keep you and the kids safe.”

 _“Clint’s an asshole,”_ Laura grumbled.

“That’s fair,” May agreed easily, “you’re the one who married him, not me. I, personally, have always thought Clint Barton is an asshole.”

 _“He’s still your best friend,”_ Laura retorted, _“do you have any news, then?”_

“My news is there is no news,” May replied, “he’s safe, on the road. Keeping out of trouble, keeping off everyone’s radar. Behaving himself, allegedly.”

 _“Allegedly,”_ Laura muttered, then sighed, _“Thank you, Melinda. For everything.”_

May smiled, “of course. And how are you holding up?”

 _“I’m good,”_ Laura assured her weakly, _“the kids are good. They miss their dad, of course. But they understand why he has to be gone. It’s hard, being all alone out here.”_

May hummed sympathetically, “I know. We’re doing what we can to get the charges dropped or reduced, but they U.N. committee is… stubborn. We’ll wear them down, in time. But until then, Nat and Clint just need to keep moving and keep out of trouble.”

 _“I know,”_ Laura sighed, _“I wish I could do something to help.”_

“The best thing you can do is keep you and the kids safe,” May reminded her.

 _“I_ know _,”_ Laura repeated, _“but it’s hard.”_

May sighed, biting her lower lip, “I’ll touch base again as soon as I can. But I doubt there will be any news for you anytime soon. We’re all just waiting.”

 _“How are you and Coulson holding up without them?”_ Laura asked.

“We’re good, just working. Same old, same old,” May lied, though things were possibly the furthest from _‘same old, same old’_ that they’d ever been.

 _“And the kids?”_ Laura teased her.

May rolled her eyes, “more trouble than yours. _Constantly_.”

Laura scoffed, _“why don’t we switch and find out?”_

“Nah, your kids love me,” May scoffed, “They're little angels for me.”

Laura chuckled at that, _“that’s true. Even Nate likes you, little brat.”_

“I’ve met him?” May remarked.

 _“You did,”_ Laura agreed, _“or, whoever went to lunch with Coulson and me. He liked you, and he doesn’t like most people.”_

May couldn’t help but smile at that, “we have that in common, then.”

Laura laughed, _“Oh, you like everyone, Melinda. You know I’ve never bought your tough guy act, Miss Super-Spy. You’re too much of a sweetheart to be that cold.”_

May rolled her eyes, “I’m the coldest. Like an iceberg.”

 _“Sure, sure,”_ Laura teased her, _“Melinda May, human iceberg. Not buying it.”_

May smiled at that.

 _“Everything alright, Melinda?”_ Laura asked.

“Yeah, fine,” May nodded, “just tired. There’s so much going on, you know? There have been a few incidents at work we need to clean up, but we seem to be entering into one of those downtime phases.”

 _“That’s good, at least,”_ Laura offered, _“you could use a break, poor things. Why don’t you come out to the farm, you and Coulson? Come see the kids. It’s almost your godson’s birthday, you know… birthdays are hard now. It could be nice, to get a distraction from their missing dad.”_

May considered that, “that… that’s not a bad idea.”

Laura scoffed at that, “ _I have them occasionally, even without your S.H.I.E.L.D. secret agent super spy school, or whatever.”_

“Occasionally, I suppose,” May rolled her eyes, “no, if we have some time. Getting out of town for a little while might help Coulson to clear his head a little.”

 _“Oh, is he having those nightmares again?”_ Laura asked sympathetically.

“No, no,” May shook her head, “just troubled by work piling up.”

Laura considered that, _“poor thing. Both of you. You can always come out here, you know, anytime at all. God knows the kids would love to see their favourite Uncle Phil and Auntie Melinda.”_

“Yeah, yeah,” May agreed, already piecing together the logistics of the trip, “I’ll check in with Coulson and get back to you, alright?”

“ _Alright_!” Laura chirped, “ _You call anytime, alright? I’ll be waiting.”_

“Get a hobby,” May replied.

Laura laughed, “ _yeah, yeah. I’ll try. Call again soon?”_

“I will,” May promised, “I’ll make contact again in a few days. Keep safe.”

“ _You too,”_ Laura replied, “ _bye now. Talk soon.”_

“Bye,” May replied, flipping the phone shut and tossing it back into the drawer with a sigh, and crossing Laura Barton’s name off her list, then moved onto the next.

_“Hello, this is Maria Hill speaking.”_

“Maria?” May asked, “it’s Melinda May.”

 _“May!”_ Hill exclaimed, “ _hey. Look who’s finally getting around to returning her voicemails.”_

May snorted, “ _well, I’ve been busy. You know how S.H.I.E.L.D. things can get.”_

Hill laughed, _“I know. I don’t miss that!”_

May rolled her eyes, “ _Don’t lie to me. We both know you do.”_

Hill didn’t have an answer to that, “ _so, how are things? What happened?”_

“That’s classified,” May retorted, “have you considered my offer?”

Hill scoffed at that, “ _is that what you called for? You’ve been off the grid for weeks, but you just want to know if I want a new job?”_

“Well, if you worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., I could tell you what happened,” May offered, leaning back in her chair, “come on, Hill. We both know you’re bored out of your mind babysitting the handful of Avengers there are left. Let me come pick you up in one of our nice new planes, and I’ll show you around the base. Coulson does an official tour now, with 101 Peggy Carter facts.”

“ _Is that supposed to be tempting?”_ Hill snorted, “ _because you’re the only one who thinks that that’s cute, May.”_

“It’s a nice base,” May replied, “you’ll like it.”

Hill sighed, _“May. I’ve already got a job. Besides, no one in the intelligence community will touch me, you know that.”_

“Coulson and I know what you’re capable of,” May replied evenly, “and this is a good time for a comeback. At least consider it.”

Hill hesitated, and May took that as a ‘maybe’.

“Listen,” May continued, “just consider it. Meet with me. We can talk about what happened, and I’ll tell you about what we need you for.”

Hill paused, _“I… I’ve got a meeting to get to, May, I-”_

“Just give me a time,” May pressed her, “I’ll come by to see you. You don’t have to say yes, of course.”

Hill sighed, _“Please. We both know you don’t take no for an answer_.”

May smiled, “Exactly. So, give me a time.”

“ _Fine. I’ll finish up in here in two hours, then skip out to meet with you,_ ” Hill relented, “ _come by Stark Tower, we’ll get coffee. Happy?”_

“Sure,” May nodded, “I’ll see you then.”

“ _I won’t say yes_ ,” Hill replied, and the call cut off. May rolled her eyes, tossing the final phone back in the drawer, and locking it with a content smile. That was one less thing to take care of then, one thing she could fix. She could bring in Hill, that would help. They needed someone like her to help run things: she and Coulson had managed alright, but Hill was far more experienced at that sort of thing. They needed a new director, and it couldn’t be her or Coulson. They needed Hill. She left her office, and found Coulson still in his room, with a significantly smaller pile of paperwork.

“Hey!” he grinned at her, “finished up with your calls?”

“All done,” May nodded, “how does dinner in New York sound?”

“Dinner in New York?” he repeated, then shrugged, “sounds good.”

 

֎


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May and Coulson spend an evening in New York City.

“Are you sure about this?” Coulson asked.

“Are you with me or not?” May replied.

“Always,” Coulson agreed easily, “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“We are,” May nodded, “it’s just a matter of whether or not Hill goes for it.”

“You think she will?” Coulson asked.

“She might,” May shrugged, “she dislikes her job here, she’s looking to be challenged, to redeem herself to the intelligence community. But it’s a big leap and a big commitment. I don’t know if she’s ready.”

Coulson hummed thoughtfully, “you don’t think it’s time yet?”

“No, it’s still too soon,” May replied, “but we need her, now more than ever. That might be enough to convince her.”

Coulson nodded, frowning, “right. So, we’re just hoping for the best, then?”

“Pretty much,” May agreed, “like everything we do, basically.”

Coulson shrugged, “well, best to stick with what we know, I suppose.”

May nodded, leaning back against Lola and folding her arms, glancing over at Stark Tower again.

“I really like that dress,” Coulson remarked quietly, eyes still hyper-focused on Stark Tower from behind his dark sunglasses. May allowed only the faintest hint of a smile to ghost across her lips and smoothed out her dress once again. It wasn’t anything special: deep purple, A-line, unembellished, and completely unremarkable, something she vaguely remembered buying to wear to a niece’s wedding, one of the few occasions where her regular black would have been unacceptable. She felt a silly for digging it out (after all, Coulson already knew her too well to be fooled into thinking this was who she was normally): but you had to look nice for first dates, didn’t you? Coulson had seemingly thought so too, in a dark suit with no tie. Had he remembered that she thought he looked better without the tie or was it just a coincidence? Her time at S.H.I.E.L.D. had taught her not to put too much faith in things being coincidences, but perhaps she was just overthinking things. God, their first date. She was too old to be feeling like this.

“There’s Hill,” Coulson remarked, nodding to a figure emerging from Stark Tower. Hill spotted Lola instantly, and headed towards them- one of the benefits of Coulson having the most recognisable car in the world, May supposed.

“Well, aren’t we all dressed up?” Hill remarked, nodding at May’s dress and Coulson’s new suit, “is this supposed to make me feel special?”

“Why not?” Coulson smiled, “after all, we came all this way to see you. Coffee?”

“Please,” Hill nodded, “I know just the place.”

 

֎

 

They were seated, with a flat white for Hill, an Americano for Coulson, jasmine tea for May: a familiar routine again. May worked well with routines.

“So, what’s been happening at S.H.I.E.L.D. lately?” Hill asked, “I’ve missed my last four weekly recruitment calls. Something exciting, I suppose?”

Coulson shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“So I hear,” Hill rolled her eyes, and nodded to May, “give me the condensed version.”

May considered that for a moment, sipping her tea, “Ghosts. Magic book. Mad scientist. Killer robots. Virtual prison. I’m sure it’s just as exciting as your work with Mr Stark. What is it you do again? Picking up dry cleaning, or…?”

“I’m a liaison between Mr Stark and the… _remaining_ Avengers,” Hill winced.

May smirked, “it’s it more like remaining _Avenger_ these days?”

“There are several,” Hill protested, “Mr Stark, Coronel Rhodes, Vision, and… _Spiderman_.”

“You mean Peter Parker?” Coulson corrected her, looking bemused, “the high schooler? Yeah, we know about him.”

“We know about the all New Yorkers,” May waved a hand dismissively, “why didn’t Mr Stark bring in the others anyway?”

Hill hesitated, “I think Parker was just the easiest to find. You’ve managed to track them _all_ down then?”

Coulson smiled, “you know that’s classified.”

Hill groaned, “God, I hate being on the other side of that.”

“Well, there’s a simple solution to that…” May shrugged.

“No, no! You promised me an explanation,” Hill protested, “you tell me where you were, and I’ll listen to your job proposition. That’s our deal.”

May and Coulson exchanged a look. Coulson offered her the slightest hint of an encouraging nod, and May took a deep breath.

“Well,” she started, “not long after I died-”

“Hold up,” Hill interrupted instantly, “you _died_?”

May sighed, “barely… for like, _two_ minutes.”

“Six and a half,” Coulson corrected her, “it gets shorter every time you tell it.”

“Anyway,” May waved a hand dismissively, “this mad scientist kidnapped and robot-cloned me-”

“Robot cloned _all_ of us,” Coulson corrected her.

“Yeah, whatever, we were kidnapped and robot cloned our team. So, that’s why I’ve been off the grid,” May finished, “Imprisoned by a psychopath, mind rewritten in a virtual prison. It took a little while for my memories to be restored. That’s why I don’t remember seeing Romanoff or Laura. I had to have my all of my memories from after my death erased to restore the earlier ones.”

Hill blinked at her for a moment, stunned, “Oh. I see. That’s… _wow_.”

Coulson smirked, “and somehow, that’s the condensed version.”

Hill exhaled slowly, “sounds like you guys have been busy.”

“Sounds like we could use another pair of hands,” May replied, “capable hands. Specifically, _yours_.”

Hill snorted, “like I don’t already have my hands full?”

“Please. We all know babysitting Stark’s team is child’s play for you,” Coulson rolled his eyes, “Stark’s the most difficult one on your list.”

“When are you planning on telling him that you’re alive?” Hill tried instead, narrowing her eyes, “sometime _this_ century, or…?”

“When it’s the right time,” Coulson replied evenly.

Hill scoffed at that, “So, never, then?”

Coulson raised an eyebrow, “Agent Hill, in your professional assessment, is Mr Stark ready to hear about what was done to bring me back from the dead? Or to hear that people can come back from the dead at all? Do you think he’s emotionally capable of understanding the decision-making process that led Fury to reviving a corpse with alien blood?”

Hill frowned, “I don’t think _anyone_ is capable of understanding that.”

“It’s my assessment that Mr Stark isn’t ready,” Coulson took a sip of his coffee, “he’s getting closer to understanding the value of a team and the importance of having an organisation setting the parameters for the team to work within. But he still needs more time before I can begin to explain the choices that Fury made and the choices that I made. It’s not time yet.”

Hill sighed, “the longer you wait, the harder it’ll be.”

“I know,” Coulson agreed, “but there are some things that need time. Anyway, it hardly matters. We’re not here to talk about Mr Stark.”

Hill didn’t reply, so they settled into a comfortable silence once more. Coulson and May shot each other a look and both silently agreeing to leave Hill to her thoughts, as she drank her coffee and stared thoughtfully into space. She needed more time, undoubtedly, but they didn’t have much time left to spare. With Mace dead and a zombie cyborg as acting Director, it was only a matter of time before Talbot stepped in to appoint a new director. They needed one of _their_ people to be secured in the position before Talbot had time to choose Mace’s successor, and Hill was the perfect choice: qualified, capable, clever, and tough. She’d already been practically Assistant Director to Fury before S.H.I.E.L.D. went down, so she already knew how to run things and how to command the respect of the agents. It would be easy for her to assume command. May and Coulson would only have to smooth over the initial transition, step away long enough for her to take complete control, and then return ready to serve. It wouldn’t be like Mace this time, unsure of his actions and in constant fear of May and Coulson usurping him. It wouldn’t work with another outsider, not unless May and Coulson quit. They were the only remaining senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, the former Director and his right hand, with over 60 years of S.H.I.E.L.D. experience between them. No outsider would ever feel comfortable as Director with their presence in the organisation, their existence was a constant threat to the leadership. They _needed_ Hill: she was a born leader, former S.H.I.E.L.D., and most importantly, unafraid of May and Coulson. They needed her, and S.H.I.E.L.D. needed her. She just needed to take the shot.

Hill hesitated, “I… what _exactly_ do you want me to do?”

“You’re aware the position of Director has just opened?” Coulson remarked lightly. Decades of experience at S.H.I.E.L.D. was not enough to stop Hill’s eyes from widening at that.

“You don’t mean...” her voice trailed off in disbelief, “You want _me_ to…?”

“Be the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.?” May supplied, “don’t sound so surprised, Hill. You’ve been groomed for the position ever since you transferred to Fury’s team. You’re the most suitable candidate for the job. Why _shouldn’t_ it be you?”

“I…” Hill paused, then shook her head, “Fury’s team are the only people in the intelligence community that even associate with me anymore. How could I possibly-”

“If S.H.I.E.L.D. can make a comeback from Hydra, then you can too,” May supplied, “if anyone can make this kind of comeback, Maria, it’s you. You’re too stubborn to let the world walk all over you. You always have been, you little brat.”

Hill rolled her eyes, “that was _almost_ nice.”

“Let’s face it,” Coulson offered, “you need S.H.I.E.L.D., but more importantly, S.H.I.E.L.D. needs you. You’re the only one who can lead the agency now. Fury’s still off the grid, and I’m _dead_.”

“And May?” Hill tried.

“I’m barely recovered enough to be an agent again, let alone Director,” May supplied, “besides, I don’t really want to. Leadership has never suited me.”

“May and I will help you with anything that you need,” Coulson promised, “every step of the way. But it’s your turn to run the show.”

Hill bit her lower lip, “are you sure it’s the right time for it?”

May smirked, “maybe not. But it’s now or never, Director Hill.”

“Director Hill,” Hill echoed, a little breathlessly. May smiled. Hill had trained her whole life for this, after all. There was no way she hadn’t fantasied about being Director Hill before, no way she hadn’t secretly craved the title.

“But,” Hill protested, “my job!”

“Quit it,” May shrugged.

“The Avengers!” Hill tried.

“Will always come back to S.H.I.E.L.D. in the end,” Coulson replied, “we all know that.”

May sighed, folding her arms on the table, “listen: if you change your mind you can always go back, but once we leave here, there are no more recruitment calls and no second chances. The agency moves on, without you. You only get one shot to be the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.: this is yours.”

Hill fell silent, eyes darting back and forth between May and Coulson as she weighed up her options.

“Well,” she finally said slowly, “I’ll need a few weeks to finish up with Stark.”

“You can have two,” May replied, “two weeks’ notice is standard, right?”

Hill scoffed at that, “you seriously want me to go back to the Tower right now, and tell Tony Stark I’m quitting?”

May nodded, “Yeah, I do. S.H.I.E.L.D. needed you _yesterday_. The whole organisation is kind of a disaster right now.”

Coulson just smiled, “Welcome home, Director Hill.”

 

֎

 

It didn’t really feel like her life: all dressed up and driving around New York in a red Corvette, and yet somehow something felt _right_ about it. May was content to let Coulson drive to “somewhere nice,” wherever that was, and just relax back in her seat. Everything had gone surprisingly well, all things considered. They just needed to keep Talbot occupied for two weeks, and then they’d have a new director. Coulson looked like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, which May supposed was probably pretty accurate. He was the heart of S.H.I.E.L.D., not the head. They both worked better on the ground anyway. And Hill would do well, of that May was certain. She just needed her confidence back.

May vaguely recognised the neighbourhood they ended up in, though she still wasn’t sure what Coulson’s plan was. She followed him, because she’d follow him anywhere, but this time she wordlessly slipped her hand into his, pointedly keeping her eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead of them. Coulson didn’t say anything, but squeezed her hand gently, and shifted his palm slightly to intertwine his fingers with hers. She glanced over at him at that, and couldn’t help but smile back when he grinned at her. They were _actually_ doing this. She’d thought about it a few times over the years, dismissing it as nothing more than an idle fantasy spurred by undercover missions and the loneliness of spy life. Now, this wasn’t just some vague daydream to be forgotten once they got back to base and to their real lives. This was _real_.

“Here we are,” Coulson announced, stopping outside a tiny restaurant in the middle of a quiet street. May vaguely recognised it from an earlier mission: they’d done surveillance here back in the late 80s, spying on some high-tech arms dealer as freshly promoted level 2 agents. Not much had changed since then: red chequered tablecloths, oil paintings of some foreign countryside, and the hum of quiet conversation, as flickering candles and twinkling fairy lights casting a soft glow over the room.

“I can’t believe it’s all still here,” Coulson murmured, looking delighted. The night was warm enough that they were seated outside in the courtyard, private and quiet enough for them to relax without worrying about been observed or overheard.

“They did great pasta here before, didn’t they?” Coulson mused, scanning the menu.

“Don’t know. You know I only like yours,” May replied absently.

Coulson frowned, “no, you don’t.”

May glanced up at him, bewildered, “excuse me?”

“I tried to make the Framework May that mac and cheese you like?” he informed her, and shook his head, “she was… blunt about it. You don’t even like it, do you?”

May hesitated, “Phil… do you remember the first time you made it for me?”

Coulson thought for a moment, “after the Borinka op? Winter ‘93?”

“That’s right,” May agreed, “we had to spend two weeks camped out up in the mountains, running surveillance and getting frostbitten, then came down to the village to get shot at a few dozen times by some psychopathic mad scientist?”

Coulson rolled his eyes, “good times. Is there a point to this story, or is it just a distraction?”

“Then we were overnight at the Bratislava safehouse, and that was the only food there that either of us could figure out how to make,” May continued, “it was the first time either of us had eaten any real food in weeks. Just you and me, curled up on the living room floor in a pile of blankets, eating mac and cheese out of the saucepan, trying to stay warm. That was the best.”

Coulson couldn’t help but smile at that, “yeah. I remember that. That was pretty great.”

May nodded, “so, I like it because it reminds me of how it felt to be there with you, and… I like _you_.”

Phil smiled at that, “I like you too.”

May smiled, then rolled her eyes, “I would hope so, after all this time. Idiot.”

“ _Almost_ nice,” Coulson teased her, shaking his head.

May smirked, “you knew what you were getting yourself in for.”

“I know,” Coulson grinned, “I know. This is going well, right? I feel like this is going well.”

“Sure,” May agreed, “you don’t need to worry so much, you know.”

Coulson scoffed at that, “of course I do. You knew what you were getting yourself into too, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” May sighed, but couldn’t help but smile, “I knew.”

“So…” Coulson turned his attention back to the menu, “how are things?”

May pulled a face, “Oh, you know: same old, same old. Work’s been pretty hectic.”

Coulson winced, “right, yeah.”

May reached across the table to take one of his hands, “you’re overthinking things.”

“I know,” he sighed, “I just… I want things to go well. Is that dumb?”

“Yeah, you’re dumb,” May agreed easily, “things will go well because it’s _us_.”

“Sure, it’s _us,_ but we’ve never done this before!” Coulson protested, “I mean… we almost did a few times. But this is a first for us. I didn’t think we had any more firsts left in us.”

“There’s still a few more firsts we’ve got left to try,” May replied coyly, pleased with how quickly Coulson blushed at that.

“Oh! Yeah. We… yeah,” he stammered, “Yeah, there’s still a few more things. I guess. Um… what were you thinking about that? I mean, general thoughts, feelings?”

May just smirked, “pick your pasta, Phil.”

 

֎

 

“No, no!” May protested, setting down her fork, “that’s not how it went down!”

Coulson snorted, “I’m pretty sure I remember _exactly_ what went down. There was a ghost, it tried to kill us, and you didn’t back me up!”

May sighed, rolling her eyes fondly, “what _happened_ was we went to a nice old building in the countryside-”

“Terrifying haunted laboratory,” Coulson corrected her.

“And _you_ freaked yourself out,” May finished, “and woke me up every five minutes, convinced the wind was a ghost coming to kill you. I didn’t get any sleep, you know.”

“How could anyone possibly sleep in a haunted laboratory?” Coulson exclaimed, “people _died_ there!”

“People die all the time, everywhere. Someone’s probably died in this restaurant,” May waved a hand dismissively, “I’m not going to lose sleep over it.”

“You really think you would have slept easily, _knowing_ there were a whole bunch of mad scientist ghosts about to kill us?” Coulson protested.

“Well, I know there’s no such thing as ghosts,” May shrugged, “so, there’s that.”

Coulson snorted, “you don’t believe in ghosts? You were _killed_ by a ghost!”

“Says _you_ ,” May smirked, “Besides, _technically_ , I was killed by Simmons and Radcliffe. Not ghosts.”

“Oh, sure _technically_ ,” Coulson rolled his eyes with a sigh, “but the crazy visions, that was a ghost! How do you justify that, then?”

“I didn’t ever see a ghost,” May shrugged, “just some crazy demon faces. Could have been anything… chemical leak, probably. It’s normally biochemical.”

“Ghost. It was a ghost,” Coulson interjected, “you know what? We’re going to go talk to FitzSimmons. We’re going to sit down and science this out. Ghosts are real, it’s proven. I’m _right_. Tell me I’m right!”

“You think FitzSimmons going to back you on the existence of ghosts?” May snorted, “No way, they’ll have some weird science explanation that neither of us will understand, but it won’t be ‘ghosts are real’. I guarantee it.”

“They’re real,” Coulson insisted, “ghosts are real!”

May just rolled her eyes, “sure, Phil. _Ghosts_.”

“God, you’re _stubborn_ ,” Coulson pulled a face, but sounded more amused than annoyed, “what’s it going to take to make you believe?”

“I don’t know… maybe just _any_ kind of proof?” May suggested, “something concrete, something tangible.”

Coulson sighed dramatically, “we _heard_ plenty of ghosts!”

“We heard the _wind_ ,” May retorted, “you know about the wind, right?”

“You’re a cynic,” Coulson rolled his eyes with a fond smile.

“You’re a conspiracy nut,” May replied affectionately. They fell into a comfortable silence, smiling at each other from across the table. May tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leant back in her chair. The date had gone well, all things considered: perhaps not necessarily _romantic_ , but friendly and affectionate. Coulson looked content which was what mattered the most to her, as he leant back in his chair, watching her with that sentimental smile that she liked to think was just for her.

“Happy?” he asked softly.

May chuckled, “very. Are you?”

He nodded, “yes, of course. Time to go home?”

May pulled a face, not wanting it to be over, “mm. Alright, yeah.”

They took a moment to pay the check and headed out, Coulson insisting on draping his suit jacket over May’s shoulders in spite of the fact that they both knew it wasn’t particularly cold out. Still, May didn’t see any reason to argue with something so sweet, so just smiled her thanks, and slipped her hand into his again. It felt more natural than she could have imagined, like they’d always been like this. And yet, it wasn’t like it had been when they were undercover: this was _real_. May felt almost giddy, heart fluttering like some silly teenager: God, she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t find it in her to stop. Why _shouldn’t_ she be happy? She didn’t have to be the Cavalry with him, and there was no one here to expect anything of Agent Melinda May. They were just Phil and Melinda, an anonymous couple on a date in the city. That made her feel bolder, and with a mischievous smile, she turned to grab Coulson by the front of his shirt and pin him against the side of the car.

“Give me the keys?” she tried, “I want to drive.”

Coulson looked flustered but still managed to snort at that, “I think not. Half the time you drive like someone’s chasing you.”

May shrugged, “to be fair, half the time someone _is_ chasing me.”

Coulson just scoffed at that, rolling his eyes. His eyes flickered down to her lips, only for a second, then up to lock eyes with her again questioningly. She stepped a little closer to him, pressing against him as her fingers curled to cling to the fabric of his shirt, and she tentatively leant in for a kiss. It was soft and chaste at first, as sweet and pure as any first kiss, though they’d kissed dozens of times before: the number of times they’d been fake married to each other probably far outnumbered the number of real relationships both of them had ever had combined. May was silently pleased that they still had gotten that perfect innocent first kiss, and even more pleased when his lips parted to deepen the kiss, arms wrapping tightly around her waist to draw her closer to him. She brought a hand up to run her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, the way she’d loved to tease him on missions. Predictably, it sent a shiver up his spine and he groaned, hugging her a little tighter, too distracted to notice as she slipped a hand into his pocket, and broke the kiss with a pleased smile.

“Well, time to go,” May winked, holding up the keys. Coulson looked bewildered, then stunned, then bemused.

He sighed dramatically, but couldn’t keep the smile off his lips, “Alright, alright, fine! Just don’t tell the kids, or they’ll all want a turn.”

“I thought they weren’t allowed to touch Lola?” May asked, pressing another quick kiss to his lips before flouncing off to the driver’s side. Coulson just chuckled to himself, shaking his head, as they both got in. With the night wind in her hair and Coulson’s hand resting lightly on her knee, May couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so happy.

 

֎


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May and Coulson return to the Playground, for yet another conversation.

Back at the Playground, their carefree flirting quickly faded into detached professionalism. May kept Coulson’s jacket draped over her shoulders as they headed back to their rooms in comfortable silence, but they didn’t touch this time. They were back to being the Director and the Cavalry, as much as they both hated those titles. As nice as it would be to pretend like they could be whoever they wanted, they still had reputations to maintain, whether they liked it or not.

“Um. So, I guess we’re home,” Coulson informed her as they stopped outside her door, like she didn’t already know.

“How about that,” May remarked dryly, “um… do you want to come in? Uh… we… we could watch that documentary FitzSimmons keep going on about, if you want? The one about global warming or something?”

“Sure,” Coulson agreed instantly, and they wasted no time in disappearing into the privacy of her room. May could breathe a little easier behind the closed door, though she still silently wished for a little more privacy than she could get here at the base. Perhaps once Hill was running S.H.I.E.L.D., May would be able to distance herself a little. She was a legitimate government employee now, no longer a wanted terrorist needing to hide out underground. She could go out and rent an apartment in the city and build up a new fake civilian life. She hadn’t done that since before Bahrain; she hadn’t even wanted to try to attempt it. May sighed, shaking her head, and glanced over at Andrew’s picture on her bedside table. One of the other versions of her must have taken it out of her drawer to put it back on display, though she wasn’t sure why. She picked up the picture frame absentmindedly, smiling a little at how young and happy they were. She could be that happy again, in time. She could never be that _young_ again, that naïve, that innocent… but perhaps she could be just as happy.

“Everything okay?” Coulson asked softly, leaning back against the door.

May set the picture back down, “I’m fine, just thinking. How are you?”

“Great,” he replied, but his voice was a little too flat for that to be true.

May glanced over at him with a frown, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he tried. May just raised an eyebrow knowingly.

“Nothing?” she repeated, “nothing doesn’t look like _this_ , Phil. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just thinking… you know, about Andrew. About how much you loved him… how much you _love_ him,” Coulson shrugged, looking down at his feet, almost daring her to try and deny it.

“Yeah, I do,” she agreed gently, tossing his jacket down onto her bed, “I love Andrew. And I will always love Andrew. He was my husband, the first love of my life. We spent some of the best years of my life together, blissfully happy, and those will always be among my favourite memories. I loved him from the first moment I met him, and I’ll love him until the day I die. Nothing will ever change that.”

Coulson nodded, folding his arms across his chest with a sigh. He must have known it to be true, after all. While it was nice to pretend they could be anyone they wanted to be, they couldn’t escape who they _really_ were. They were both two real people in the real world, who had both lived two real lives. May smiled softly at that. Sure, it was infinitely more complicated like this, but it was better too. Much better than any of their undercover love stories and much better than any paradise Radcliffe could have programmed for them. This was _real_.

“I am grateful that you talked me into saying goodbye, into getting closure. That’s what I didn’t have last time, why I couldn’t move on,” May continued, stepping a little closer to him, “I’m always going to love Andrew, Phil. But… but that doesn’t mean that I’ll never fall in love again with anyone else. That doesn’t mean that I won’t love someone else just as much. Do you know what I mean?”

Coulson looked up at that, with that familiar spark of hope in his eyes, and nodded, “Yeah. I think I do. But I… I don’t think we’re in the same place, Melinda.”

“The same place?” May echoed, her heart sinking a little, “what place is that?”

Coulson sighed, “I just think… maybe I’m more invested in this than you. Maybe I’m pushing you, or pressuring you, without even meaning to. Maybe I want this more than you. No, that’s not true. I _know_ I want this more than you.”

May considered that for a moment, “you know, the Framework May’s letter… she said you were in love with me, the real me. _This_ me. Is that true?

Coulson blinked at her for a moment, speechless, “I... I thought… she told you that?”

“Yes,” May nodded slowly, watching him carefully, “I didn’t believe her, but… did you? Tell her that?”

Coulson hesitated for a moment, but then nodded ever so slightly, “I… I did, yeah. She _asked_ , and I couldn’t _lie_ to her, I… I couldn’t lie to you.”

May felt like her heart was about to tear right out of her chest, it was beating so fast. He… he couldn’t be serious, could he? He _loved_ her? Phil Coulson loved her? How was that even possible? She was broken and distant and cold, and he was the _opposite_ of that. She almost wanted to shake him at the ridiculousness of it all: because of course, that sappy, hopeless romantic Phillip J. Coulson could fall in love with someone like her, reckless and unafraid. Of course he wouldn’t consider the consequences of doing such a thing, about how little there was left of her to give or how much she might hurt him even without wanting to. He’d do it anyway, because he was braver than her at things like that. ‘ _But maybe,’_ some small part of her protested, _‘maybe you could be that brave too. Maybe you could be, for him.’_ And after all, wasn’t Coulson more than enough of a reason for her to blindly try anything?

“I don’t expect you to feel the same way,” Coulson continued, mistaking her speechlessness for disapproval, “I know that you don’t feel the same way, and I’m okay with that! it’s weird, I know, and _way_ too soon-”

May took a deep breath to steady her nerves, “but we’ve never done anything the normal way, have we? Why start now?”

Coulson blinked at her, bewildered, “wait, what? What are you saying?”

“I love you, Phil,” May told him, as she cupped his face in her hand, running her thumb over his cheek, “I love you too. How could you not know that?”

“But you… but I… _what_?” Coulson stammered, “ _what?_ What did you just say?”

May tried to sigh impatiently, but couldn’t keep the smile off of her face, “listen to me: I love you too, Phil. Not because _you_ want me to, but because _I_ want to. If I didn’t want to be here with you, like this, then I wouldn’t be. This is my choice. _You’re_ my choice.”

“I... I am?” Coulson blinked at her in disbelief, “are you _sure_? Me? I mean… are you sure you’re _ready_? Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure,” May assured him, “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want this. I want _you_.”

“ _Melinda_ ,” he murmured and drew her in for another kiss. There was nothing innocent about it this time, hot and heavy and breathless: May couldn’t keep her hands off Coulson, fingers itching to explore every inch of him. Any thoughts of ‘ _taking things slow’_ or _‘waiting for the right time’_ had long since flown out of her mind: they’d already waited _decades_ , after all, and this felt too good to stop. Coulson seemed intent on taking the lead: his hands snaked down her body to hook under her thighs, and he lifted her up in one smooth movement, taking a few steps forward to pin her to the wall.

“Oh!” May exclaimed with a laugh, wrapping her legs around his waist as she shifted in his arms and kissed her way along his jawline. Coulson groaned, turning his head to capture her lips in another kiss, bringing his good hand up to run through her hair. There was a loud knock on the door which made them both jump, breaking the kiss to look over at the door in alarm.

“Agent May!” came Simmons voice, sounding anxious, “are you in there?”

May groaned, pulling a face, as Coulson chuckled to himself and nuzzled at her neck. Reluctantly, they disentangled themselves from each other, straightening their clothes and smoothing out their hair, and with one final glance over her shoulder at Coulson, May opened the door.

“Yes?” she said, pleased with how calm and impersonal her voice sounded, without even a hint of what had just transpired.

“May!” Simmons exclaimed, shaking her head sternly, “I’ve been looking for your all afternoon! My goodness, don’t you carry a phone?”

“I think one of the other versions of me lost it,” May shrugged, “Besides, I’ve been busy.”

“Oh, you’ve been _busy_?” Simmons echoed, then sighed dramatically, “I _told_ you to try to rest up! Where were you anyway? I looked _everywhere_!”

May at least had the grace to wince a little at that, “New York.”

Simmons stared at her for a long moment, stunned.

“New York!” she squeaked when she finally found her voice, narrowing her eyes, “what part of ‘ _rest up’_ did you interpret as ‘ _go to_ _New York’_?”

“It was necessary,” May waved a hand dismissively, “and it wasn’t _that_ draining.”

Simmons just shook her head in disbelief, “go lie down. _Now._ I’ll go get my equipment. Honestly! _New_ _York_!”

May frowned and almost protested, but didn’t want to risk being sent back to the lab and away from her freedom, so reluctantly went to lie down on the bed. Simmons nodded curtly, then stalked out of the room, muttering to herself in annoyance.

“Well!” Coulson snorted, coming to sit down beside her, “you’re in _trouble_.”

“You remember when Simmons used to be in awe of me, too scared to say more than a few words to me at a time?” May snorted, propping herself up on her elbows to pull a face at him, “now she’s ordering me around and mouthing off. Little brat.”

“She was in awe of the Cavalry,” Coulson corrected her, “and now you’re more than that to her.”

May rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile a little at that, “oh, sure. We’re all just one big, happy family.”

“It’s nice!” Coulson protested, “don’t you think it’s nice to have a team, rather than just you and me on our own?”

“I don’t mind just you and me on our own,” May replied with a smirk, “we were doing just fine before she interrupted us.”

Coulson laughed at that, then paused, “do you think she suspected anything? About… _us_?”

“Probably, but I doubt she’ll say anything,” May paused, “is that a problem for you?”

Coulson snorted, “ _please_. I’d tell everyone if I could, but I doubt they’d believe it. Do you mind?”

“I don’t care what anyone thinks about my personal life,” May scoffed, but smiled anyway, “Are we going to tell them about Hill?”

He paused, “Yeah, I suppose so. They’ll need to get everything in order to smooth over the transition. Besides, Simmons likes to be prepared.”

May nodded, “alright, sure. Although I’m not sure how much _I_ like her right now, considering she’s just _ruined_ my plans for this evening.”

“Pity,” Coulson pulled a face, then shook his head, “no, it’s probably for the best. You’re still recovering, after all. It’s too soon.”

May just rolled her eyes, “if you say so… I had a great time tonight, either way.”

Coulson smiled softly, “so did I. I’m glad you’re back.”

May sat up, leaning over to kiss his cheek lightly, “it’s nice to be home.”

“Um. Hello?” Simmons interrupted them, awkwardly standing in May’s doorway and looking a little embarrassed, “I… um. I’m back? I have my equipment… it’s just a few quick scans, then you can go back to… um… Shall I start?”

“Of course,” May nodded, “whatever you need.”

“Here, let me help you,” Coulson offered, hopping up to carry in Simmons’ equipment, ever the gentleman. Simmons wasted no time hooking May up to a dozen little portable scanners and examining the information collected from the monitor she’d been wearing. May did her best to be accommodating and docile, but wasn’t sure it made any difference.

“How is everything?” Coulson asked once Simmons had finished, “are the memories sticking?”

“As far as I can tell,” Simmons agreed as she started packing her equipment away again, “all her vitals seem pretty consistent, which is promising. Heart rate has spiked a few times, but, um… I’m sure that’s environmental. How are you feeling, May? Still tired?”

“A little,” May agreed, sitting up again slowly, “but I’m feeling much better than yesterday.”

Simmons nodded, “good, good. So… um… how was New York? You guys, uh… you went together? _Together_ , together?”

May shot a knowing look at Coulson, who just grinned.

“Sure,” he agreed cheerfully, “things went well. In a few weeks, we’ll have a new Director.”

“You talked May into it?” Simmons gasped, beaming at both of them, “Oh! That’s so exciting!”

“It’s not _me_ ,” May interrupted before she could get too worked up, “do you remember Maria Hill?”

Simmons looked a little disappointed but nodded, “right. We’ve met. She’s our new Director?”

“She will be. And she’ll be good, but she’ll need your help. We can count on you to help her find her feet here, right?” Coulson prompted her. Simmons hesitated for a moment, clearly still a little disappointed she wouldn’t be answering to Director May, but couldn’t turn down an important, new responsibility like that.

“I’ll do whatever you need,” Simmons agreed slowly, “of course, SciTech is pretty busy with May, and Mack, and Fitz right now.”

“Right, of course. How is that going?” Coulson asked, “when are they going to have the procedure?”

Simmons hesitated, “um. I’m not sure they are.”

“What?” May frowned, “what do you mean, they’re not going to?”

“Well, Mack won’t even _consider_ it. Neither will Fitz, but he’s hardly in a position to decide right now. But even if they wanted it… Wright is concerned their memories might have been corrupted,” Simmons explained, biting her lower lip, “your cloning was done a little different to what happened to everyone else, made with a copy of your original brain scan. The original was kept separate from everything that came after, you see, but with the new clones AIDA created... she didn’t create a copy of their memories to alter with her programming for the clones, she used the only copy they had.”

May considered that, “there’s no original scan to go back to?”

“No,” Simmons agreed softly, “not that we can find.”

Coulson frowned, “so… how are you going to fix Fitz?”

Simmons shrugged, a little helplessly, “if we perform the procedure on him now, he might still be influenced by the programming AIDA created for his clone. Wright is trying to revert them back to what was originally uploaded, but it’s a process. We don’t know what we’re going to do if it doesn’t work.”

“But he can’t stay like _this_ ,” Coulson protested, “he… he’s a _monster_.”

“I know,” Simmons agreed tearfully, “I _know_. But I… I don’t know what we’re going to do. I… I miss him so much. I don’t know what I’m going to do if we can’t fix him.”

May frowned, then put her hand on Simmons’ shoulder (albeit, a little awkwardly), hoping it helped a little. Simmons needed to be comforted, but May still wasn’t sure how to be comforting. The Other May had been able to be kinder to her, to call her ‘ _sweetheart’_ and tell her that she loved her, all still somehow without feeling uncomfortable about it. How had she done that?

“Jemma,” she offered, “it’s going to be alright. You’ll see.”

“How do you _know_?” Simmons whimpered, “how can you know that? You don’t even remember what we did to _you_ , how can you know that whatever we’re going to do to Fitz will work out alright?”

May hesitated, “I might not remember what happened to me, but I already went through this with Coulson, remember? We didn’t know if we could fix him… we didn’t know what would happen. But everything turned out okay then. And he was far worse off than Fitz is.”

Simmons considered that for a moment then nodded, shifting to rest her head on May’s shoulder. May was a little stunned for a moment, but recovered and put her arms around Simmons cautiously, not sure what she was expecting. She looked up at Coulson helplessly, but he looked just as distressed. They’d never had this conversation before, May realised. She’d meant to tell him after his insanity passed, once she was sure it wouldn’t hurt him to know about what happened between his death and coming home from Tahiti, but there had never been a good time to talk about that sort of thing. When could there ever be a good time to talk about something so terrible?

“I’ve never thought about that before,” Simmons said quietly, startling May out of her thoughts, “were you scared?”

May considered denying it but didn’t see any point in lying, “yes. Yes, I was scared.”

“What happened?” Simmons asked.

May glanced up at Coulson again, and he nodded, prompting her to continue. Perhaps it was better to tell him now before she lost her courage and didn’t do it at all. Perhaps it would help him to deal with what was happening to her now, with her losing her memories too.

“Well. Um. When I got to the Guesthouse, the carvings had already started,” May started, “he had all these crazy memories of other worlds, going on about _endless frozen oceans_ or something. We tried to stop him from carving, but he wouldn’t, or he _couldn’t_. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, he just carved, for days and days. If we had left him like that, he would have died. He couldn’t live like that. So, we had to put him through Tahiti even though he didn’t want us to, even though _we_ didn’t want to. We assumed he would have to be totally overwritten, with a whole new life and no memory of any of us, and that we were never going to see him again. Fury suggested a partial erase with new false memories to fill in the blanks, but… the doctors weren’t optimistic about how successful it would be. We prepared to lose him forever. That was the most frightening part, that there wasn’t any way to fix it. Even after they seemed to fix him, we weren’t sure how long it would last, _if_ it would last. We just had to hope he would be okay. And that’s all you can do too. Hope. And sometimes, that’s enough.”

Simmons sighed, “that’s easy for you to say.”

“No,” May shook her head, “no, it’s not easy. It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do. But there might be no easy choice here. If you can’t fix him, you might need to erase him completely-”

“No!” Simmons protested, “no, I can’t hurt him like that. I can’t lose him!”

“Sometimes you have to do a bad thing for a good reason,” May told her gently, “it’s going to hurt you so, so much. And you’re going to have live with that… but you won’t have to live with it alone. So, you can scream, and you can cry, and you can hate him for doing this to you… but you can’t give up.”

Simmons whimpered at that, burying her face in May’s neck.

“You’re okay,” May murmured soothingly, stroking Simmons’ hair and kissing the top of her head, “you’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

She held Simmons tightly, rocking her gently as she ran her fingers through her hair, even if Simmons was too old for that sort of thing. May was reminded oddly of her mother and wondered idly what had happened when the other version of her went to visit her mom. Did Mama know what had happened to her? Had the Other May been comforted like this? She glanced over at Coulson again, who offered her a weak smile.

“Everything will be okay,” May told them both gently, “we’re going to be alright.”

Simmons nodded, sitting up with a sniffle, “Thank you, Agent May.”

May sighed, tucking Simmons’ hair behind her ear, “go get some sleep, Jemma. You’re exhausted.”

“I need to sleep?” Simmons scoffed, “ _you_ need to sleep!”

“It’s not a competition!” Coulson interjected, rolling his eyes, “ _both_ of you need some sleep. _Now_.”

May snorted, and Simmons pulled a face, but neither argued with him. Simmons hopped up with a huff, folding her arms as she looked back down at May.

“Now, no more late-night trips to New York,” Simmons chided her, “you get into bed, and _stay_ there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” May retorted sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“And um… try to keep your heart rate steady,” Simmons added awkwardly, pointedly not making eye contact with either of them, “um. It would be wise to not do anything that might elevate that, you know? Anyway. Um. I’ll come by early tomorrow morning to check up on you again. Okay?”

May smirked at her embarrassment, but nodded, “sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Simmons nodded to herself, shifting uncomfortably for a moment, and looking back and forth between May and Coulson.

“I’ll help you take your equipment back to the lab,” Coulson offered, picking up her bags, pausing for a moment to lean over and kiss May’s forehead, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Get some rest.”

May nodded, and with that, Simmons and Coulson packed up the last of the equipment and left. In the silence that followed, May found she wasn’t enjoying the solitude as much as usual. She still liked the quiet and the stillness of being alone, but for the first time in a long time, she felt… lonely. She changed out of her dress and heels tiredly, then slipped into bed in an old Captain America t-shirt and leggings. As tired as she was, she didn’t fall asleep until she heard Coulson return to his room and settle into bed too.

 

֎

 

May woke a few hours later, startled from her sleep by Coulson crying out. She rolled onto her back, staring up at the Ceiling Fish with a sigh. She often heard his nightmares, calling out as he pleaded with some dream monster to not be erased, or begging the memory of his Doctor to let him die. Tonight, it seemed to be a different nightmare from what May was used to hearing.

_“No, please… don’t leave… please… please come back…”_

She got out of bed with a yawn, rubbing her eyes, and stumbled into the bathroom tiredly. Coulson continued to whine and whimper for a few minutes before he woke with a gasp. May shook her head with a sigh of relief, as she heard him get out of bed with a groan and stumble through to the bathroom.

“May…?” he winced as he saw her, “did I wake you?”

“No,” she lied, “I couldn’t sleep either. Still better than you, from the looks of things.”

He grunted at that, leaning back against the doorframe with a sigh.

“Hey, wait… that’s my shirt,” Coulson yawned, rubbing his eyes, “I’ve been looking for that _everywhere_.”

May hugged her arms around her chest, “no, this is mine.”

“Oh yeah?” Coulson scoffed at that, “this is _your_ Captain America shirt? Your Captain America shirt, that you own? _You_?”

“Yep,” May nodded, “is that so strange to think?”

Coulson narrowed his eyes, “looks a little too big for you.”

May shrugged, then pulled up one of the sleeves as it slipped down her shoulder, “well, maybe I like it like that.”

Coulson folded his arms with a sigh, “Oh, sure. So, where’d you get it?”

May hesitated, hugging her arms around herself a little tighter, “from your apartment. The afternoon of your funeral. It reminded me of you.”

Coulson fell silent then, softening immediately, “my mistake, then. Looks better on you anyway.”

May smiled weakly at that and nodded. They were quiet for a moment: Coulson took the opportunity to splash a little cold water on his face, while May leant back against the shower door and watched him thoughtfully. As much as she would have liked to, there wasn’t anything she could do to fix his nightmares except be there for him when they were over, and even that she wasn’t very good at.

Coulson met her eyes in the mirror, “So, I had a funeral, then?”

May nodded slowly, “you did. It was… very dignified. Captain America was there.”

Coulson’s eyes lit up at that, “really? Wow… it’s a pity I missed it.”

“Yeah, I thought you would have liked that,” May smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “so… everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he assured her, “I’m fine. You should be in bed.”

“So should you,” May retorted.

“I’m not on bedrest,” Coulson replied, rolling his eyes, “come on.”

He didn’t give her any opportunity to argue back (not that she had the energy to), and just tiredly led her back to her room and helped her back into bed.

May caught his wrist in her hand, “stay with me? For a little while?”

Coulson looked surprised, but nodded and slipped into bed with her. If only to avoid having to try and sleep on top of the box of odds and ends she’d put together for Coulson after her death, May kept close to Coulson, settling curled up to his side as he lay back with a sigh.

“I was worried you might disappear again,” he admitted in a low voice, “I was worried I’d come here and you’d be gone again, and I’d be all alone.”

She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as her fingers lightly traced the scarred skin beneath his t-shirt, “I have that nightmare too.”

Coulson brought his hand up to stroke her hair lightly, “yeah? I didn’t know that.”

May bit her lower lip, “well. Losing you isn’t something I like to think about. It’s even harder to talk about. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I know,” he murmured, “I don’t want to lose you either. Not again. God, it’s been a rough few years, hasn’t it?”

May hummed in agreement, snuggling closer to him. They fell into a comfortable silence, just happy to be with each other again, even if they were both half-asleep. May was just about drifting off to sleep again when Coulson nudged her awake.

“Hey,” he murmured, “why didn’t you decorate?”

May wrinkled her nose, “what?”

“Your room,” he prompted her, “why didn’t you decorate it?”

“I don’t know,” May mumbled, “I didn’t think we’d be here for so damn long. And there’s no window, so there’s no point.”

“What’s the point of having a window?” Coulson asked, “what difference does that make?”

May yawned, “you remember, how I had those dumb rainbow curtains back at the psych facility?”

“Sure,” Coulson agreed, “from Barton, right?”

“Yep,” May rolled her eyes, “he read some dumb article on how colour influences emotion and bought those ridiculous curtains to try and influence me to feel something better. I know it’s stupid but… it doesn't feel right to live somewhere without them now, I’ve had them everywhere I've lived for _years_. Every time I saw them, they really did make me feel better. But I don’t think it was because of the colours.”

“No,” Coulson murmured, “no, I don’t think it was just the colours.”

May nodded sleepily, closing her eyes again, “will you stay until the morning?”

“I’ll stay for as long as you want me,” he told her, but somehow May knew he wasn’t just talking about staying in her bed. She smiled at that, heart fluttering with delight in spite of her promise to keep it steady.

“You be careful,” she chided him affectionately, “or I’ll want you to stay forever.”

“I would,” he promised reverently, “anything you want.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to make you regret _that_ ,” May snorted, but couldn’t hide the fondness in her voice. They fell silent again for a moment, and May yawned, wondering idly why they hadn’t done this before. Perhaps they had needed to lose each other to realise how much they needed each other. Perhaps they’d needed to break to realise they’d always fit back together again.

“I love you,” Coulson whispered, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

“Love you too,” she mumbled back, “now let me get some sleep.”

Coulson chuckled at that, kissing her the top of her head lightly with a pleased sigh. And he did stay, falling asleep with a dumb smile on his face, so blissfully content that May couldn’t help but to smile too. This time at least, there didn’t seem to be another nightmare, and even if there was, she’d be right here when he woke. As much as she wanted to stay awake to keep vigil over him, the steady rise and fall of his chest gently lulled her to sleep, with only one last thought of how wonderful it was going to be to wake up next to him tomorrow.

 

֎

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap!! It's way longer than I originally anticipated, and yet I'm still sad to see it end :(
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the ride! Thank you so much to everyone who has read and liked and kudo'd and commented, I'm so grateful for your support of this story <3


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